


Good, Kid

by SpencerKnight



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Anxious Harry, Ashton Irwin & Harry Styles Friendship, Ashton Irwin - Freeform, Awkward Kissing, Baker!Harry, Ben - Freeform, Big Brother Michael, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Boys Kissing, Calum Hood - Freeform, Crimes & Criminals, Depressed Ashton, Dom Louis, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Gemma - Freeform, Good Tom, Harry is younger, Harry's Birthday, Harry-centric, Hearing Voices, Human Trafficking, I changed their names because I already have a ben and jack but it's them, I got this idea and just ran with it, Innocent Louis, Insecure Ashton, Insecure Luke, Jack - Freeform, John - Freeform, Kidnapping, Kissing, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Lazy Mornings, Lottie Tomlinson - Freeform, Louis lives in a big house, Louis's Birthday, Louis-centric, Luke - Freeform, Luke Hemmings - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Masturbation in Shower, Michael Clifford - Freeform, Mild Kink, Minor Character Death, Minor Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Morning Kisses, Mornings, Neck Kissing, Needy Luke Hemmings, Non-Consensual Kissing, Older Louis, Organized Crime, Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Platonic Kissing, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Protective Ashton, Protective Michael, Protective Tom, Rich Louis, Showers, Shy Luke, Smut, Sub Harry, Surprise Kissing, Top Louis, Underage Kissing, Young!Harry, Younger Harry, ben hemmings - Freeform, fizzy tomlinson - Freeform, gemma styles - Freeform, hemmings, idk - Freeform, jack hemmings - Freeform, johns - Freeform, kind of, larry - Freeform, little mix - Freeform, older!louis, one direction - Freeform, perrie is mentioned - Freeform, phoebe tomlinson - Freeform, this is Larry-Centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 72,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerKnight/pseuds/SpencerKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Harry Styles went missing for three months, until a stranger named Louis Tomlinson, a young millionaire with a history, bought the unsuspecting boy and his freedom from a sleazy man in England. When Harry arrives at Louis' house, he expected to be ushered to yet another basement, and instead is treated to a home-cooked meal and a clean bed. As the days passed, Harry learned things he wished he could forget, Louis found out just what happened to Harry while he was gone, and the two quickly realized just how much they were worth to each other. Harry struggled to overcome new hurdles, but with the help of Louis, he found that it was possible to recover and move on from the past, and Louis realized that he, too, could let go of something he was holding on to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Louis

Harry touched the cuff on his wrist, keeping him chained to the wall. It was cold to the touch, and made his reddened wrist feel like it was on fire. The red ring had completely covered the base of the anchor he had tattooed there. He tried not to move too much, to hopefully minimize the pain in his limbs from being forced to sit there for what he imagined was weeks, now. He had been let up to do his business and eat, but only briefly, and rarely. It had been endless hours of him sitting in the closet-like room, stark naked and frightened. Before this room it had been another room, with another man, and another room and another man before that. He shivered at the thought of what the men had made him do, and the injuries he received for not doing as they said.  
He thought about how he had gotten there, or rather, how he thought he had gotten there. He could almost remember being on his way home from a friend’s house, and he remembered waking up in a room like this one. He knew he had been drugged—although he didn’t know how—since there wasn’t another logical explanation for how he got from one to the other, and he knew that this was probably planned, so whoever it was probably knew him to some extent –that’s what Law and Order had said on the topic, that is. He listened to the muffled voices outside the room, not really able to make out what they were saying. It was always the same conversation that ended in someone coming into the room and asking him to do things he didn’t want to do. He tried not to think about it, and instead focused on the voices outside the room. He thought it was two men; the first man he knew was the one keeping him here, and the other was new, higher pitched, and belonged to someone he was sure he would meet under less than pleasant circumstances.  
He shivered as the vents started blowing cold air into the room, signaling that the AC was on, and it would be for a good hour or so, despite Harry being freezing. He curled in on himself and winced when the cuff rubbed at his wrist. The sound of the air system masked the voices and footsteps from the men outside the room, and he was startled when the door opened. The lights were switched on, and Harry squinted through his messy curls.  
“Sit up, boy,” the first man ordered, “we have company.”  
Harry obeyed, too scared not to, and watched wearily as the man lead another into the room. He tried to hide his crotch from view as he observed the newcomer. The second man was shorter –shorter than Harry, by several inches he guessed—and had feathery brown hair framing a scruffy face that watched Harry curiously. Unlike the first man’s dirty clothes, the newcomer wore a blazer over a t-shirt with writing on it that Harry couldn’t make out. Harry’s gaze flickered between the two men in front of him, towering over his small frame.  
“What’s his name?” The shorter man asked of the taller. The latter glared at Harry.  
“Go on, tell him.”  
“H-Harry, sir,” he stuttered, looking down.  
“And your surname?” The newcomer asked, “I expect you have one, haven’t you?”  
“Styles, sir,” Harry said quietly.  
“Good name for a good boy. How old is he?”  
“Eighteen, sir,” Harry whispered.  
“I’ll take him.”  
“He costs a pretty penny, are you sure?” The first man said shortly.  
“I said I’ll take him,” The second man said firmly, “I took the last one, I’ll take this one, and I’ll take the next one.”  
The first man nodded and escorted the second from the room. The door was left open, so Harry listened as they discussed prices and paperwork in the other room. He heard them negotiating price, settling on three thousand pounds. The man returned to unlock Harry from the cuff on his wrist, and dragged the naked boy from the room. Harry didn’t fight, not seeing a point in getting himself beaten over the matter. He only made an effort to cover his privates as he was brought into a kitchen. Harry had no idea he was being kept in a perfectly normal-looking home, aside from half a dozen men at the exits, watching. He had imagined he was being held in a dungeon, or something equally dark and evil, like the man who kept him there. The two men traded paperwork and pens, the shorter man signing page after page, all the while Harry was being held by the other, who had forced Harry’s hands away from covering himself, only to be tied behind his back with a zip-tie. He had been shoved into a kneeling position beside the men. He was mortified, but he couldn’t fight them, and instead tried to busy himself with looking around the kitchen. He looked at the calendar above the sink: December, it said. Harry remembered having just started his term in August before ending up wherever he was right now. He noticed his reflection in the window, frowning at how weak he looked, broken, with his hunched skin-and-bones body and his knotted hair that hung down past his shoulders. He always kept it long, but not this long, and he didn’t like how it stuck to his neck and cheeks, making him look even scrawnier than he felt.  
“Would you find him something to cover up with? He’s going to be outside, and I’d rather he be dressed. Anything would be fine. The clothes he came in, maybe?” The shorter man said absently as he signed the last of the papers and looked up. Harry frowned; he talked about Harry like he was a doll, not a person, and he didn’t like it. “Well?”  
The man nodded, “Yes, yes, I’ll find something. Watch him for a moment, would you?” He left Harry with the shorter man and walked into another room.  
The height difference between Harry and the shorter man was almost comical. Harry would have towered over the other man if he were standing, but the shorter man held a presence that made Harry cower away. The man looked Harry up and down, frowning, which scared Harry. Had he done something to upset this man already?  
“You’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you, Harry? You’ll do as I say?” The shorter man asked, the words sounding forced. Harry’s eyes widened. Good boy? What did that mean? “Answer me, Harry. When I talk to you, I need an answer.”  
Harry nodded, “Yes, sir, I’ll be good,” he squeaked, not knowing what he was agreeing to, but not wanting to upset the man.  
“I’m glad,” he replied, “I quite like you, Harry. You’re a good kid.”  
The other man returned with grey sweatpants, dirty sneakers, and a black t-shirt. He dropped the pants in front of him, “Put these on,” he said to Harry, who struggled to quickly work the sweats up his legs. He handed the shirt and a pair of worn sneakers to the shorter man, “He can’t get it on with the zip-tie, so I’ll leave this with you. And if that’s all been signed, you can go,” he said, gesturing to the paperwork.  
The shorter man nodded once, and Harry was yanked to his feet and pushed towards him.  
“We’ll be going then. It was good doing business with you.”  
“You as well, Louis.” The men shook hands.  
“If you’d fax me a copy of the paperwork?” Louis asked.  
“Of course.”  
Harry was then unceremoniously dragged from the house and onto a dark empty street by Louis. The winter air, colder than usual, since night had fallen, whipped at Harry’s bare skin as he walked barefoot through the snow.  
Louis led Harry to a small black car with tinted windows, and opened the door, “Get in, Harry, quickly” he said shortly.  
Harry ducked into the car and was followed by Louis, who closed the door behind them. He turned to the driver, “All set, Tom, thank you,” he said. Tom nodded and started the car. Harry watched as the man beside him pulled a pocket knife from his pants, and he shied away. “Calm down, Harry, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to cut the zip-tie so you can put a shirt on,” Louis sighed, “I don’t have scissors, and I’d rather you not freeze.”  
“Promise?” Harry asked quietly.  
Louis nodded, “Promise.”  
“Okay,” Harry replied weakly, hesitantly offering his bound wrists to the man with the knife.  
He retracted his hands as soon as the tie was cut.  
“Handy tool, this is,” Louis said as he put away the knife. Harry pulled on the t-shirt and shoes and looked at Louis expectantly. He still wasn’t quite sure why this man had signed paperwork to take him somewhere, or what it meant. He had been handed from man to man several times in the last few months, and each one wanted something different from the boy. “Are you okay? Was there anyone else there besides him? Are you cold? You looked cold. Are you hungry?” Louis asked. Harry shrugged, dazed. “Harry,” he warned, “please answer me.”  
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know, I was alone. Um…I don’t remember the next question, but I’m a little hungry,” Harry admitted, looking down.  
He shoved his hair out of his face and wrapped his arms around his thin waist. He was so much smaller than the man beside him –taller, yes, but Louis was, no doubt, stronger than Harry. He worried Louis would quickly take advantage of that.  
“I’ll have food prepared for us. Is there anything in particular you like?” Louis wondered. He pulled out his phone and began to type. Harry hesitated again, “Harry?”  
“Erm…chicken? I don’t know, sir, I’m sorry,” Harry flinched.  
He was expected to answer the other man immediately, and was scared that Louis would punish him. He leaned even further into the other door, trying to distance himself from the blow he was sure to receive for not answering clearly. His eyes stayed trained on Louis as he waited for a reaction.  
“Don’t apologize, I know you’re overwhelmed,” Louis said. He put away his phone and turned to face Harry, who had his back pressed against the door, “Goodness, Harry, you look like you’ve seen someone die or something—“ he paused, eyes widened, “I’m sorry, that was a rash thing to say, you’ve probably seen that, haven’t you? I can only imagine what you’ve been though. I’m not usually so insensitive. Forgive me.” Harry just watched Louis in the dark backseat of the car, eyebrows furrowed. Seen someone die? Was he supposed to have seen someone die? Had someone died? Could he have done something? Louis was probably talking about how someone had died that he could’ve helped, but he hadn’t because he didn’t know anyone was going to be killed. Harry felt guilty. He felt confused. He felt scared. He didn’t know what he felt, really, but he didn’t like it, and it was overwhelming, so he cried. It wasn’t a proper cry –Harry wouldn’t do that, no, he just let the tears fall, wiping them away before Louis could see. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry, don’t cry,” Louis said, scooting closer to the boy. He hesitated, wanting to pull Harry into a hug, but he was scared that would upset him more, so Louis settled for a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry didn’t pull away, and Louis took that to mean he could be close to the boy. He pulled Harry closer, his arms wrapping around the taller boy, “I’ve got you, just let it out. I know, I know.”  
Harry simply cried, letting the stranger hug him. He was terrified, and didn’t know what was happening to him, which scared him even more. Harry stayed for a good half an hour in Louis’ arms, the smaller man rubbing circles into Harry’s back. Louis didn’t say anything, and didn’t let Harry go. He just let Harry cry into his shirt, and rubbed his back soothingly. He wondered why the boy had so many tattoos. He counted several –a mermaid, a bird cage, an anchor; writing he couldn’t read upside down. The boy obviously had a tolerance for pain. He was strong. That was good, Louis thought, he needed to be strong after what he had been through. The car turned into a gated neighborhood, tall houses lining the streets. A few still had lights on, others had holiday decorations lining the gutters.  
“I—I’m sorry,” Harry sniffed before crying harder, trying to pull away. He refused to make a sound, letting the silent sobs rack his body. Louis didn’t let go, and held Harry to his chest comfortingly.  
“I’ve got you, Harry; it’s okay.” Louis hand ran up and down Harry’s back, a steady, soothing motion. It eventually calmed the boy to the point where his ragged breath had slowed, but he didn’t pull away from Louis’ embrace. He was comfortable, although he felt like he shouldn’t be, and he didn’t want to upset the man, so he didn’t move. “I’m sorry I upset you,” Louis sighed. Harry whimpered into Louis’ chest. He gently pushed Harry back to look him in the eyes, “I promise.” Harry nodded. Louis had made good on his other promise, so Harry decided he didn’t have a reason not to trust the man. He was still scared, but less so. “Are you in any pain? I don’t know what he did to you.” Harry shrugged. “Harry, you’ve got to give me proper answers, it’s important.”  
“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry said quietly.  
“You don’t need to apologize for everything, and you don’t need to call me sir. You just need to answer my questions, okay?” Harry nodded. “Good. Now, does anything hurt?”  
Harry nodded again, “M-My wrist, mostly,” he admitted softly.  
“Can I see?” Louis asked gently, hand outstretched. Harry placed his hand in Louis’, palm facing up. The raw ring of stood out against his pale skin, warm to the touch. Louis examined the skin carefully, turning over Harry’s wrist to look at the other side of it. Tattoos littered the area, standing out against the pale skin. “Jesus,” Louis whispered, “How long—never mind, I don’t need to ask right now. Let me try again: on a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt?”  
Harry thought for a moment, and Louis let go.  
“Six or seven maybe,” he replied, head bowed. “I’m used to it.”  
Louis frowned, “That’s high.”  
Harry shrugged, “Yeah,” he said quietly.  
Louis glanced out the window as the car rolled to a stop, “We’re here. You’ll come with me?” He asked.  
“Yeah,” Harry said dejectedly.  
“Hey now, don’t sound so bummed, I’m nice, aren’t I?” Louis teased, opening the car door. He helped Harry out onto the snowy driveway, and walked him to the front door, a hand on his shoulder protectively. There were a number of rooms lit up, which Harry could see as he looked up at the large house. “Don’t talk to anyone right now, okay? I don’t think anyone’s really around since it’s so late, but there are a few people that want to speak to you before you talk to anybody else.” He said, turning to face Harry.  
Harry nodded and bowed his head, “Okay.”  
Louis sighed and opened the front door. The house was warm, and Harry worried that he’d upset Louis by trailing in the snow on his filthy sneakers.  
Louis guided Harry through an ornate kitchen and to a staircase, leading him up a flight, “That’s the master suite,” he said, pointing down the hallway, “I sleep there,” he told Harry before turning the other way and opening a door to another staircase. The two climbed another flight to the top floor, and Louis guided Harry into a guest room, “This will be your room while you’re here. Although, you probably won’t stay here very long, I’m guessing.” He sat Harry on the bed and gestured around the room, “Everything you could possibly need should be in here. I’ll be back in just a minute, okay? Look around, get comfortable, just don’t wander quite yet.”  
Louis left the room then, leaving Harry alone. He hadn’t closed the door behind him, which was odd to Harry, but he didn’t dare disobey the man and leave. Harry didn’t like the silence much, so he tried to distract himself with the items in the room. He finally settled on the radio, trying to tune it to a station that wasn’t static, to drown out the silence. Once he was satisfied, he sat back down on the bed, and took a deep breath. He looked around at the baubles on the shelves.  
Pictures of Louis and others were scattered between the collectible snow globes and old books that filled the room. Harry was miserable, but he was okay, for now, and that was something he hadn’t been able to say for a very long time. He sniffed to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. He expected Louis wouldn’t want that, especially not after his little episode in the car.  
Louis returned with someone trailing behind him, startling Harry, who hadn’t heard them coming. He dressed nicely, like Louis, and carried a briefcase which he sat down on the bed beside the boy.  
“Hi Harry,” Louis said, standing on Harry’s other side, a hand on his shoulder.  
“Hi there, Harry, I’m Dr. Carson,” the man spoke with a slow and soothing voice that calmed Harry, “Louis tells me your wrist is a bit battered. Is that true?” Harry nodded. “Would you mind letting me take a look?”  
Harry nodded again and held his wrist out to the doctor who examined it much like Louis had.  
“You’re doing great, Harry,” Louis murmured. He rubbed Harry’s shoulder gently.  
“Alright, Harry, it looks like it’ll heal up nicely, but I’d like to clean it, if that’s okay with you?”  
“Okay,” Harry whispered.  
He was lost as to why these people were being so gentle with him, since none of the other men had been. It felt like walking on eggshells, wondering when he would finally do something Louis didn’t like, and suffer the consequences.  
Dr. Carson opened his briefcase and pulled out medical supplies, “My father had a briefcase for his house calls, so I decided to follow in his footsteps,” he explained to Harry, “Now, it’s going to sting a little, since the area is so tender. I want you to know that,” he said. Harry nodded. “Can you tell me how this happened?” Dr. Carson asked gently.  
“Handcuffs.” Harry whispered.  
“How long were they on for?”  
“I don’t know. Weeks?” He guessed.  
“I’m amazed it’s not infected,” Dr. Carson said.  
Harry just watched warily as his wrist was cleaned and bandaged neatly.  
“Thanks,” Harry said quietly.  
“How old are you, Harry?”  
“Eighteen,” Harry replied.  
“Do you mind if I ask Louis to step out for a moment, then? I’d like to ask you some questions, and I think it would be better if we were one on one, yeah?” Dr. Carson asked gently.  
Harry looked at Louis, not knowing how to answer.  
“I’ll go. I promised Harry some chicken, so I’ll see if it’s ready.” Louis said, answering for Harry.  
“Alright then,” Dr. Carson said as Louis left the room again, “First things first. I want you to know that you can tell me anything, okay? And you need to answer honestly.”  
Harry frowned, not liking the way that sounded, since he didn’t know what Louis would be okay with him saying.  
“Okay,” he said slowly.  
“Louis told me you weren’t treated very nicely wherever you were before here, is that correct?” Harry nodded. “Can you tell me about that, Harry? Is that where you got that bruise on your cheek?” Harry nodded again. “Would you tell me what happened to you there? Did they hurt you more than that?” Harry nodded yet again. “Can you elaborate a little bit for me? I may know how to fix your wrist, but I don’t know how to read your mind.”  
“He hurt me when I—when I didn’t do what he said.” Harry whispered.  
Dr. Carson nodded, “Can you tell me how he hurt you, Harry? It’s important.”  
“He would hit me, and kick me, and, and,” Harry choked out weakly.  
“It’s okay, Harry, you can take your time.”  
Harry nodded. “He’d hit me, and he’d,” Harry stopped again, furiously wiping away a tear.  
“Did he touch you, Harry?” Dr. Carson asked gently. Harry nodded, starting to cry.  
“B-But he didn’t d-do anything else,” Harry sniffed, “S-Some o-of them did, though.”  
“Okay, this is good, Harry, you’re doing really well. Was it just bruises? Did he ever break anything?” Dr. Carson asked.  
“N-No,” Harry whined, “h-he said not t-to damage the g-goods.”  
“Alright, that’s all I need to know, Harry. We don’t need to continue right now. Would you like me to go get Louis for you?” Harry nodded. “Okay, I’ll go find him. I’m going to leave my card with you, in case you need anything. You can call me at any time.”  
Dr. Carson pulled a business card from his coat pocket and handed it to Harry. He took his briefcase and exited the room just as Louis returned with a plate of food. The two exchanged a look, and Dr. Carson said he’d wait in the kitchen.  
“Hi Harry,” Louis said, “I brought your food. Chicken, like you asked, with mashed potatoes, since you look pretty hungry.” He set the food on the bedside table. “There’s a detective that’s going to come talk to you in a little bit.”  
Harry frowned, “A detective?” He asked quietly.  
Louis nodded, “You need to tell him what you can remember about Jack, and the people he took you from.”  
“Why?” Harry wondered. He had never been asked about them before, by anyone.  
“They did terrible things to you, Harry. They need to go to jail, and that won’t happen if you don’t talk to them.” Harry was confused. Louis was going to do the same thing, though, wasn’t he? Why would he want Harry to talk to the police, if he’d get in trouble, too? “What is it?” Louis asked.  
“Nothing,” Harry said softly.  
“No, tell me.” Harry frowned.  
“It’s just,” he trailed off.  
If he lied to Louis, he’d be punished, and if he told Louis that he’d get in trouble, he’d hurt Harry. He couldn’t win.  
“Harry, come on, what’s worrying you?” Louis asked, sitting beside the boy. Harry stiffened.  
“I don’t wanna make you mad,” he mumbled.  
“You’d only upset me if you refused to talk to the detective, and even then I wouldn’t be mad, Harry. What is it?”  
“Won’t you go to jail, too?” Harry said, preparing for whatever blow he’d receive.  
“Why would I go to jail? Are you going to tell them I watch pirated movies?” Louis asked. Harry looked up.  
“What?” Harry said, confused.  
“Why would I—wait, because I bought you? Did I not—” Louis paused, “I didn’t, did I? Harry, I’m sorry. You must be so confused, and I meant to say this in the car. I paid Jack so that I could get you out of that place. I’m not—I’d never do…what he did.”  
“What?” Harry repeated quietly.  
“I, as Jack said, paid a pretty penny for you so you could be free, Harry. So you can go home to your family.” Louis explained. “I’m trying to help end the market for human trafficking, not buy into it. That money is being tracked.” Was he lying to Harry? Was Harry finally free again, as Louis said, or was it a hoax? Did Louis just want to give Harry a false sense of security, only to destroy him with the truth later? He had been lied to so many times, and he didn’t want to be hurt again. “I’m serious, Harry.”  
“I’m really free?” Harry asked.  
Louis nodded, “Really. I’ve done this a few times. I just want to see you go back to your family, and all I ask for in return is that you tell the detective what you can so we can try to help more people.” He explained to Harry.  
“Thank you,” Harry whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated.  
“No need to thank me, Harry, it’s alright.” Louis replied.  
“You saved me from…from,” Harry paused, “just, thank you.”  
Harry tried his best to collect himself. Louis watched him, concern in his eyes for the boy.  
“You don’t have to be strong anymore, if you don’t want to. It’s alright to cry.”  
Harry shook his head, “No, no, I’ve cried enough. I’m—yeah, I’m okay.” He said, “I’m just happy.”  
“I thought you were hungry?” Louis teased.  
“Both,” Harry sniffed.  
“Why don’t you eat, and then I think the detective will be here. You’re okay with talking to him, right? It’s so important to stopping these guys, but if it’s too much to handle, we can wait.” Louis said.  
He didn’t want to overwhelm Harry, but he didn’t want to wait, either, despite saying so. He wanted so desperately to end Jack’s sickening business as soon as he could, and Harry could very well be a key in doing just that.  
“Okay,” Harry said, offering a weak smile to Louis.  
Louis nearly sang. “Thank you, Harry, this is really important. You’re doing a great thing. I’m going to go talk to Dr. Carson, since he’s waiting in the kitchen, but you eat. Feel free to wander around, but do eat first, it’s important.” Louis said, standing up, “I don’t mean to keep leaving you on your own, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of that –sorry, that wasn’t very nice—so you can come find me when you’re done? I’ll be in the kitchen.”  
Harry nodded. He trusted Louis, which he knew he probably shouldn’t so quickly, but he did all the same. He watched as Louis left the room, leaving the door open once again, and hurrying down the stairs. Harry picked up the plate of food and picked at it. The chicken was stuffed with cheese, and wrapped in ham –far too extravagant to give to someone you had just bought—which made Harry trust that Louis was good, just that little bit more. He savored each bite of the food as he listened to the radio that had taken his attention once he was alone.  
It scared him a little bit that the world kept turning without him being there, and he thought about his family and friends. Had they missed him? He missed his older sister the most. Gemma was the best sister he could ever ask for, and he didn’t want anything more in that moment than to have her there. He wondered if she was looking for him, if any of his friends and family were. It hurt to think about, so he returned his attention to the radio, listening to the song that came on before realizing it was in French, which surprised him. French music rarely played on English stations –they didn’t like the French much, so why would they play French music?  
He frowned and looked out the window, wondering if he was in France. Louis didn’t sound French, and nor had Jack. He stared at the manicured lawn, as if he would be able to tell where he was based on the trees. Which, granted, he could probably do if he were a tree expert; however he was not a tree expert and therefore didn’t have any idea where he was. He finished his food and decided to go to the kitchen, where he could ask Louis what part of Europe he was in. He walked down the first flight of stairs and turned the wrong direction down the hallway, happening across a number of bedrooms before righting himself and finding the stairs. These carried him to the kitchen, where he saw Louis closing the front door behind Dr. Carson.  
“Hey there,” Louis said. He took the plate from Harry and put it in the sink.  
“Hi,” Harry replied.  
“The detective should be here any minute.”  
“Okay.”  
“Do you want to sit?” Louis asked, gesturing to the stools at the bar. Harry nodded, and the two of them sat. “Is there anyone that might be looking for you? Parents, friends?”  
“I think so,” Harry said quietly.  
“Do you know their numbers? You can call them, later, if you’d like?” Louis offered.  
“I don’t remember,” Harry frowned, “I’ve never needed to know them,” he admitted, “How will I tell them I’m okay? How are they going to know?” Harry worried.  
“Hey, we’ll figure it out,” Louis said gently, “it’s okay. We’ll find them.” Harry nodded, and Louis gave him a pitying look. “We should celebrate your freedom,” He stood up and walked to the other side of the room where a liquor rack was placed, and pulled out a bottle. This one was vodka, but Louis didn’t mind. He took two shot glasses and brought them over to Harry, filling them. He pushed one to Harry, “It tastes disgusting, but it feels good. You look like you could use it. You’re eighteen, right?”  
Harry nodded and took the glass, hesitating, then lifting it in a toast.  
“To freedom,” he said, almost as a question.  
“To freedom. Cheers,” Louis clinked his glass to Harry’s, and the two gulped down the strong liquid.  
Harry scrunched up his nose.  
“That’s vile,” he coughed.  
“I know. I haven’t got anything I really like. Most of it belonged to my father, but I’m not as much of a drinker as he was, so it just sits there for special occasions,” Louis admitted.  
The doorbell rang. The two looked up to see the detective standing on the other side of the door. Louis went to open the door, greeting him. He walked over to Harry hand held out his hand.  
“I’m Detective Watson,” he introduced himself, “Yes, I know, Sherlock and Watson, it’s funny.”  
“Harry Styles,” Harry replied.  
“Nice to meet you Harry. Why don’t we get this over with quickly, yeah? I know it’s not fun to talk about. I’ve never enjoyed it much myself, but it must be done, yes?”  
Harry nodded, “Yeah,” he said quietly.  
Detective Watson asked Harry the same questions as the doctor had, then moved to harder ones, which Harry was hesitant to answer. At one point Harry had just about given up answering questions.  
“Do you remember how long you were with the man before Jack?”  
“No.”  
“Do you remember what happened with that man?”  
“Yes.”  
“Can you tell me?”  
“Do I have to?”  
“It would really help us.”  
“He did…things.”  
“Can you tell me what things?”  
“No.”  
“Okay, we can move on. Do you remember his name?”  
“No.”  
“Was there another person before him?”  
“Yes.”  
“Were there more than those two?”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you know how many?”  
“I lost count.”  
“Did they all, pardon my candor, but did they all treat you as Jack did?”  
“Yes.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Are you?”  
“Harry,” Louis said softly.  
“I’m sorry,” Harry said.  
“It’s okay, we’re almost done.”  
Harry nodded at this, relieved. He was grateful that Louis stood beside him the entire time, even though he didn’t say more than a few words throughout the ordeal. When the detective had finished with his questions he thanked the two and quickly left. Harry was exhausted. He saw the clock that read a quarter to midnight, and he was ready to sleep. Louis took notice to how Harry leaned on the countertop and blinked so slowly that Louis was almost expecting them not to open at all.  
“Why don’t we get you to bed, yeah? You’ve had a long day.” Harry nodded, letting Louis guide him back to the third floor. Louis sat him on the bed and opened the closet, where he pulled out a fresh t-shirt and a new pair of sweatpants. “These should fit you.” Louis said as he handed the clothes to Harry.  
“Thank you,” Harry said softly. Louis smiled.  
“I’ll be in my room if you need me. Goodnight, Harry.”  
“Goodnight.”  
Louis closed the door on his way out. It was the first time the door had been closed, and Harry noticed just how small the bedroom was. He felt trapped almost immediately, so he opened the door just a crack, and instantly felt better. It was strange, Harry thought, how he had always slept with his door closed, and now he couldn’t. He changed quickly and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets to his chin and closing his eyes.  
Sleep didn’t come easily with the thoughts running through his head, and the clock struck one before he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Louis woke in the early hours of the morning to a loud thump from the floor above. It sounded like it had come from Harry’s room, which concerned him. He jumped out of bed and rushed to Harry’s room, skipping stairs on his way. He noticed his door was open, and pushed his way in to see Harry on the floor, tangled in his blankets. He was whimpering, but Louis could tell that the boy was still sleeping –having a nightmare— as he thrashed around on the floor. Louis went over to Harry, kneeling down.  
“Harry,” Louis whispered, “Wake up.” He shook Harry’s shoulder gently, making the boy wake and jump away from him, knocking into the bedside table. “Harry, it’s okay. You just had a bad dream. It’s okay, you’re safe now.” Louis said carefully.  
“No,” he wailed and shook his head again. “No, no, please, no,” he repeated like a mantra. Louis’ heart broke for the boy on the floor. Harry was gasping for air and sobbing to the point where he could barely breathe, which scared Louis. Harry’s eyes went wide, “Can’t breathe,” he whimpered, sitting up straight.  
“Harry, love, calm down. You’re making yourself sick,” Louis said, hands up as if in surrender. “No one can get to you anymore, you’re safe. Take a deep breath, Harry, come on, and breathe. That’s it; again, just keep taking deep breaths. See, you’re okay. In and out. That’s it, Harry.”  
Louis gently pulled the blanket away from Harry and tossed it on the bed, moving to sit beside Harry. Harry still was struggling to breathe, panicking.  
“I need,” he gasped. “Need my—”  
“What do you need, Harry, tell me.” Louis pleaded.  
“Inhaler.” He gasped, unable to get out more than the one word.  
“Oh, god,” Louis breathed, realization striking him. He thought quickly, trying to figure out what to do. “I don’t have one, Harry, you have to slow your breathing, okay?” he took Harry’s hand carefully and placed it on his chest. “Match your breathing with mine, okay?” Harry listened to the calming tone of Louis’ voice and tried to do as he said. “Put your other hand on your head. Yes, I know, it sounds silly, but it’ll help.” Harry obeyed, and his breathing slowly steadied, although he was still wheezing slightly, and the tears stopped coming. After several minutes he relaxed a little bit, and Louis let go of his hand, watching him. “Do you have asthma, Harry?” Louis asked softly.  
“Yeah,” Harry coughed. He sniffed, still focusing on his breathing. “I haven’t,” he paused to breathe, “Haven’t had an attack,” he took another deep breath, “in years.”  
“Alright, I’m going to call Dr. Carson really quickly, and see what he says. I need you to keep focusing on your breathing for me.”  
“Okay,” Harry said weakly.  
“I have to go get my phone. I’ll be right back, okay?” Harry nodded, and Louis raced out of the room. He was back, albeit out of breath, before Harry knew it, phone to his ear. He sat down beside Harry, talking into the receiver. “Dr. Carson? Yes, it’s Louis…I’m calling about Harry.” There was a pause while Louis listened to the line. “He just had an asthma attack, and we had to stop it without an inhaler…No, he’s okay now. We were wondering if he needed to do anything right away, or really if there’s anything he needs to do at all…Yes, alright. No, he said it was the first in years…Yes, I think so. Thank you.” Louis hung up and put his phone on the bedside table. He returned his full attention to Harry, who was now very much calmed down. “Dr. Carson said that you should have some coffee, because the caffeine will help your lungs somehow. I’m not a doctor, I didn’t get what he said, so all I know is that you should do it. He also said that he’d come by tomorrow to give you an inhaler. Will you come down to the kitchen with me? I’d rather you not be on your own in case it happens again.”  
“It won’t,” Harry said softly, “but I’ll come.”  
Louis helped Harry to his feet. He took his phone and guided Harry out of the bedroom, frustrated that poor Harry had been through so much within so little time. They walked slowly, as Harry was still recovering his breath. He was pleased that Harry allowed Louis’ hand to rest on his back as they walked into the kitchen, knowing the small show of comfort was a much bigger deal to Harry than to him. He sat Harry down at the kitchen island and walked to the coffee pot.  
“I’m more of a tea drinker, but Doctor’s orders, so we should listen, yeah?” Louis said.  
“Yeah,” Harry agreed absently as Louis started the coffee.  
“It’ll keep you up,” Louis realized, “do you want to watch a movie or something until you fall asleep?” Harry nodded. “We’ll see what we can find on the telly.”  
The coffee finished, and Louis poured it for Harry, offering the boy cream and sugar, which Harry politely declined, and the two went into the living room to find a movie. They settled on the small suede sofa, with a good foot between them. Louis handed Harry a blanket before turning on the television. It turned out that nothing very good was on, so they decided on a documentary on house pets, since the two agreed that the kittens and puppies on screen were way too adorable to pass up. Harry became entranced by the documentary, and Louis watched as Harry finished his coffee and curled up under the blankets.  
He stayed a fair distance from Louis, which Louis was okay with. Harry, despite the caffeine, soon started to dose off, leaning back into the sofa. When he did fall asleep, he snored slightly, which Louis was pleased to hear, since it meant Harry was still breathing. Eventually Louis started falling asleep as well, but he was enjoying the documentary, so he tried to stay awake. Just as it was coming to an end, Harry shifted so that his head was in Louis’ lap. Louis chuckled, as Harry’s hair had fallen over his face, and was fluttering with every breath. He tried to get comfortable without waking Harry, and soon he was asleep as well.


	2. Baby Ben

Harry had nightmares constantly. Sometimes he’d wake up with tear stained cheeks, other times he’d wake up screaming. This time, Harry woke up having dreamt that Louis had been lying about his freedom. He had been locked in the bedroom with Louis, and he panicked even more when he noticed he was in Louis’ lap. He shot up, startled, and settled again on the other side of the sofa, taking slow and steady breaths to calm himself. Louis, he thought, had no reason to hurt Harry. He was a good kid, and Louis was a nice man, and it was just a dream, he reminded himself sternly. He realized he needed to use the restroom, and got up to find one. He managed to get lost both on the way to and from the toilet, despite Louis having pointed them out earlier that night, but he found his way back, climbing back under the blankets and curling up. He tried to sleep, but the caffeine from his coffee had made it quite difficult, despite hoping that if he kept his eyes closed long enough, he’d fall asleep eventually.  
It didn’t work as well as Harry had hoped, so he just laid there quietly, looking around the room. The house was huge, and there was so much to see, so he memorized the room to the best of his ability. He started with the French doors on both sides of the room, and moved to the shelves of useless baubles. He noticed even more snow globes, like the ones in the guest room, and wondered why Louis had so many. Some had landmarks like the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben—he knew those—but others had little houses, or tiny figures of people from all over the world. There were pictures, too, on the walls. Many were of Louis and other people both smiling at the camera, but some were of places Harry had never seen. He noticed one of Louis standing alongside a bride, and wondered if the man sleeping beside him was wed. If so, where was the woman in the picture? He hadn’t seen anyone in the house beside the doctor and the detective, despite Louis saying others would be around. He wondered who these others were, and why he wasn’t to talk to them before he spoke with the doctor and detective.   
He settled on asking Louis when he woke up, and returned his focus to the room. He noticed the house was older than he first realized. There were slight cracks in the ceiling, and how the wallpaper had aged and wrinkle in a few places, especially around the large clock centered on the wall to his left. Harry could hear the ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere out of sight. It lulled him back to sleep.

Louis woke first –he wasn’t a morning person at all, but when one is knocked to the ground by the long legs of a boy curled on the other end of the sofa, they tend to find themselves pulled from the comfort of sleep. This was the case with Louis, who sighed and stood up. He draped his blanket over the tattooed boy, and took his coffee cup to the kitchen. Louis ran a hand through his hair as he entered the kitchen, quietly greeting Jess, the twenty-eight year old chef who nearly lived in Louis’ kitchen. She had come down early to prepare breakfast for Louis and Harry, as she always did.   
Louis had an extensive staff despite being the only one living in his house. He was what he called a Holiday Child, meaning he nearly only saw his family around the holidays, so he preferred the company that came from having people to cook his food, mow his lawn, and clean his pool –pretty much anything that Louis couldn’t quite do himself without messing up. He stuck to working with his team of detectives to end Jack’s ring of human trafficking. He had spent the last six years doing that, and he’d spend the next thirty doing the same, even once he’d ended Jack’s ring, he’d find another and work to end that one as well.   
“Coffee already?” Jess asked, pulling him from his thoughts with her slight French accent.   
“Oh, I’ll have some, but this is Harry’s from last night,” Louis said, putting it in the dishwasher, “Doctor’s orders.”  
“Why ees that?” Asked the raven-haired chef.  
“Some kind of remedy for an asthma attack. He’s alright now, just a little shaken.” Louis explained.   
He took a seat at the bar.  
“’Ow ‘as he been otherwise?” Jess wondered. She set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Louis, and started on the coffee he had asked for.  
“He’s been through a lot,” Louis sighed, “They all have, but you should have seen him, Jess. He’s got the longest hair, and it was just in his face and so knotted. And he’s less than skin and bones, but covered in tattoos. So many tattoos, it’s crazy. He’s just a kid, poor thing.”  
“’Ow old is he?”   
“Eighteen.”  
“You are ‘ardly older, Lou, you cannot really say so, no? ‘E’s probably tougher than you think.” She said.  
“Six years is plenty for me to call him a kid. He shouldn’t have to be as strong as he is,” Louis replied, “and he’s not strong physically, at all. He’d tip over in the wind.”  
“Don’t blow on ‘im, then,” Jess said as she handed Louis his coffee.  
“Very funny.”  
It fell silent then, Louis eating his eggs. Jess busied herself in the kitchen so as not to bother him. Half way through Louis’ breakfast, Harry wandered in, a blanket around his shoulders.  
“Morning,” He said quietly.   
Louis saw Harry’s bare feet sticking out from beneath the blanket, the only part of the boy besides his face that he could see. He smiled.  
“Morning. Hungry?” Louis asked softly.  
Harry nodded, taking a seat beside Louis at the bar. The blanket fell away, draping down behind him, and Louis could see the grey sweatpants that were slightly too small for the boy, rev  
“Morning,” Jess greeted, “I’m Jess.”  
“Harry,” Harry replied.  
Jess handed Harry a plate of eggs and bacon like Louis’, along with a cup of coffee. He thanked her shyly.   
“Did you sleep well?” Louis asked.  
He took a sip of his coffee and watched Harry.  
“Alright,” Harry answered, “better than before.”  
“I’m glad. I’m sure you’ll sleep even better in a proper bed tonight.” Louis said.  
Harry nodded and smiled before focusing on his food. It was quiet then, the only noise heard was Jess clearing the dirty dishes into the dishwasher before disappearing. Louis stared intently at his coffee cup, enjoying the taste of the warm drink, with just a tad too much cream in it. He tried his best not to pay too much attention to the sleepy boy beside him, not wanting to put any pressure on him to behave in a way he might feel he needed to behave. He just wanted Harry to do as he pleased, and soon go home to his family, wherever they might be.   
Louis wondered what Harry’s family was like. He imagined that Harry had a picture perfect family—his parents, and maybe a sibling or two, and a cat or a dog—and he thought about how Harry probably had a white picket fence around the house he grew up in, and a good group of friends, and kind neighbors; he imagined Harry to have everything that he never had as a kid. A perfect life to go back to.   
He noticed Harry lean down beside the table to pet Baby Ben.  
“Hey there, kitty,” he cooed, “aren’t you a cute little thing, what’s your name?”  
“Baby Ben,” Louis answered for the cat that was clearly enjoying the attention from Harry, “I found him wandering when I visited Big Ben earlier this year, hence the name. Poor thing was hiding from the rain, looking thoroughly miffed that he was wet.” Louis explained.  
Harry picked up the cat and looked at Louis.  
“You saved him?” He asked, still petting the kitten.  
“You could call it that, yeah. I don’t like seeing anyone sad, even kittens.”  
“Do you have any others?” Harry wondered.  
“He’s the only one. I hadn’t intended to get a pet, but I had to keep him. It gets lonely around here, and he’s great company.” Louis scratched behind Baby Ben’s ears, “Aren’t you Bennie?”  
“I’d get lonely in a house this big, too,” Harry said quietly. “What about your family? Are they not around?”  
“Nah, they live in London. I don’t see them much. In fact, I was going to give Bennie here to my little sister, Lottie, since she was with me when I found him, but she was starting at a boarding school in September, and she couldn’t keep him, so I took him home.”  
“How old is she?”  
“Your age, just about. She decided to spend her last year of studies out here before starting to work with me. She’s really involved in what I do—or at least she is when she’s around—so we decided she could skip Uni if she really committed to working with my team, and she could move here after she finished this year.” Louis told the younger boy, who had finished his breakfast and was now focused solely on Baby Ben and Louis.  
“You two are pretty close,” Harry observed.  
“We are. She’s the only one of my siblings that I’m very close with.”  
“How many do you have?”   
“I’m the eldest of seven. What about you?”  
“Youngest of two.” Harry replied. “My sister, Gemma, is a couple years older than me.”  
“Are the two of you close?”  
Harry nodded, but didn’t elaborate. He, instead, kissed the kitten’s head and set him back on the floor. Jess, who had popped up out of nowhere, as she usually did, took Harry’s plate and put it in the dish washer. Louis stood up, and gestured for Harry to follow.  
“Any requests for lunch?” Jess asked.  
Harry shook his head and looked at Louis, who did the same.  
“Surprise us?” Louis offered.  
“Alright then.”  
The two boys left the room, and Louis led Harry to the third floor, where there was a large closet near the guest room. Louis opened it and dug through dozens of clothing items before pulling out several pairs of jeans.  
“One of these should fit you,” he said, handing them to Harry, “And then we can go shopping to get you a few new pairs. How does that sound?”  
Harry hesitated before replying with a gentle, “Alright.”  
“Why don’t you go try those on and see what fits? There are shirts in your closet, as well. I’ll go get dressed, too, and then we can head out? There’s a shower just there—” Louis pointed to a bathroom that Harry hadn’t noticed, “—since you probably want to take one. I’ll come and find you, yeah?”  
Harry, visibly overwhelmed at the load of information dumped on him, agreed, and Louis left him to get ready. Louis went down to his own room, finding the bed made. He looked in his own closet for something to wear, deciding, as usual, on jeans and a t-shirt, but chose to add a black hoodie, since it was colder weather in December, and he was sure he’d be freezing despite knowing he should wear several layers. He went about his business—showering, brushing his teeth, combing his hair—then went back down to the kitchen.

Harry was thrilled to take a proper shower. He couldn’t remember the last time he was allowed to bathe in private, and was pleased to be able to now. He stood under the water, letting the hot stream relax his muscles and wash away the dirt. When he climbed out of the shower he felt truly clean. He was a long way from happy, but equally as far from miserable, he decided. He was the least sad he had been in months, and it was a good feeling. He stared at himself in the mirror, a white towel around his waist, just beneath the inked leaves lining his hips. He pushed his long hair from his face. He resented it. He didn’t want it long, but he was forced to keep it that way, regardless. Tattoos littered his skin. He loved all but the one on the back of his neck—the symbol of his time away from freedom. He focused, instead, on the swallows on his chest. One for him, one for his sister. He trailed his fingers over the birds and down his arm to the birdcage, the bible, the mermaid, and down to the anchor. He pulled off the soggy bandages covering his sore wrist, and tossed them in the bin beside the toilet. The red had gone down significantly, and he could tell that it was already healing nicely. He sighed. There was bandaging left in the bedroom by Dr. Carson, which he decided he’d ask Louis to help him put on properly.   
His collarbones were prominent and protruding like knives, and his cheeks were hollowed out from months of being starved. It was obvious by his face that he was tired, too, with the purple rings beneath his eyes. To further prove that to be true, he rubbed his eyes before opening the medicine cabinet. He found a toothbrush still in its packaging, like Louis said he would, along with other useful toiletries stashed away behind the little mirror.   
Harry wondered, as he dressed himself in the only fitting pair of jeans in the pile on the bed, why Louis had such an array of clothes in the house that didn’t belong to him. He wondered if the clothes had belonged to someone else before arriving in the over-stuffed closet, and he wondered where those people had gone, should they have existed in the first place. He wondered if they belonged to one of the six siblings Louis said he had. Harry couldn’t imagine having six siblings. Gemma was more than plenty, he thought. Having five more might just have killed him. Although, Louis seemed fine, from what Harry knew of him, so he supposed it could be the more the merrier when it came to an abundance of siblings.   
He pulled on a long sleeved shirt—black, like the one he slept in—and a jacket he found in the closet. It was a little small, but if he didn’t zip it up, it fit alright. He slipped on the dirty sneakers and laced them up, then took the bandages and walked downstairs to the kitchen, where Louis was sitting, talking to Jess again. Louis fell silent when he noticed Harry.  
“Hey,” he said.  
“Hey,” Harry replied.   
He held up the bandages as he sat beside Louis.  
“Want a hand?” Louis asked.   
Harry nodded, and Louis took the bandages. Harry held out his hand, and dragged his sleeve up his arm. Louis was careful to wrap Harry’s wrist, and apologized profusely when he wound it slightly too tight at first.  
“You’re a trooper, Harry,” he said when he was done.  
“I guess,” Harry shrugged.  
“Why don’t we go find you some more clothes, and then we can pick up your inhaler, yeah?”  
“Alright,” Harry nodded.   
He appreciated that Louis wanted to buy him new clothes, and even pay for him to get an inhaler—something he never thought he would need. It had been at least a decade since his last asthma attack. It was rare for him to ever be even short of breath, especially since he exercised meticulously, and worked hard to stay as healthy as possible to prevent an attack. He assumed the combination of his scrawny starved body coupled with the panic attack was what caused it. He had woken himself when he fell out of bed from the nightmare, and supposed that being so worked up had triggered it. Harry hated feeling as weak and helpless as he had, and decided right then to return to working out daily to rebuild his strength.  
“Do you want to go now?” Louis asked, startling Harry from his thoughts.  
“Oh, yeah, okay,” he replied.  
“Alright, I let Tom know we’d be leaving soon, so the car should be out front.”   
He led Harry out to the same black car from last night, and opened the door to let Harry in. Harry was a tad wary of the vehicle, but climbed in like Louis requested. Louis followed, and as soon as the door was closed, Tom pulled away from the grand house.   
When they arrived at the store, Harry almost choked.  
“Why are we here?” He said incredulously.  
“To get you new clothes. Come on.”   
Louis hopped out of the car, and Harry followed. They entered the designer store and Louis immediately walked to a rack on the side of the store. Harry, again, followed, and took the three items Louis was already holding out for him.  
“Louis, this is going to be expensive, I don’t—“   
“Harry,” Louis interrupted, “You’re currently wearing my uncle’s old jeans, and I don’t have any idea why you would want to wear his jeans, so we’re getting you new ones. I’d like to spend a little money on you, okay? God knows I have enough of it to treat you, yeah?” Louis replied.  
He didn’t wait for Harry to reply, and instead handed him several additional items of clothing. He held up a pair of pants to Harry’s waist, frowned, and put them back on the rack before retrieving a different pair which he was far more satisfied with. He handed those to Harry as well, then ushered him to the changing room, demanding to see each and every item so he could approve of it.   
Harry tried on at least a dozen outfits in the first round, and just as he thought he was finished, Louis handed him another pile. This repeated several times until Louis was satisfied, then he told Harry to change back into his clothes while he paid for the new things. Harry obeyed, and was quickly dragged into the next store, to repeat the process and try on even more clothing. After there were a good number of bags filled with new clothes and new shoes, Louis was seemingly content, and decided that they could stop, which pleased Harry greatly.   
Louis put all of the bags into the car once they found Tom, and asked that he drive to the doctor’s office to pick up Harry’s inhaler. He then leaned back in the backseat, decidedly satisfied with what had been accomplished so far that day, and Harry looked over to him.  
“Thank you,” Harry said, “for all of this.”  
Louis smiled.  
“Of course. You’re a good kid, Harry, you deserve much better than what even I can give you.” He said gently.  
“It’s still very kind of you to offer so much to me, really.”  
“Don’t you worry about it, alright? I want to do this.”  
“I suppose,” Harry said softly.  
Harry made a non-committal noise and it fell silent. He watched out the window at Paris passing by, and wondered when he would get to go home. Louis had just bought him an entire wardrobe of clothing, and he wondered how long Louis expected him to live there. It seemed like Louis was estimating a longer stay, but perhaps Louis was just over-indulging on Harry. He was glad someone was so willing to help him.  
“Dr. Carson wants to give you a check-up just to make sure you’re alright after last night. Is that okay with you?” Louis asked as they pulled into the lot at the office.  
“Alright,” Harry replied.  
“I can stay with you if you want me to,” Louis offered.  
“That would be nice,” Harry nodded, “if you don’t mind.”  
“Of course I don’t mind. I’m here for you, Harry.”  
“Thank you.” Harry murmured.  
Tom parked in the lot, and Louis again led Harry from the car. They entered the waiting room, and Louis walked up to the desk.  
“Louis Tomlinson, here to see Dr. Carson,” Louis said.  
“For Harry Styles?” The receptionist asked.  
“That’s it.”  
“Alright, he’ll be out in just a minute,” the receptionist said, smiling.  
Louis guided Harry to two chairs in the corner of the room to wait. They sat quietly for a moment.  
“It’s just a regular check-up, and we’ll get your inhaler on the way out,” he explained to Harry.  
“Okay,” Harry replied.   
“Nothing to worry about.”  
“I’m not worried, I don’t think.”  
“Good.” Louis said.  
“Styles?”  
Harry and Louis looked up at Dr. Carson, who stood in the doorway. They stood up and walked over to him.  
“Good to see you again,” Louis said cheerfully.  
“You as well,” Dr. Carson replied, “If you’ll follow me.”  
He walked Harry and Louis through a maze of hallways and into a small room. He asked Harry to kick his shoes off and take a seat on the bed.  
“So this is just to make sure everything is ‘ow it should be, and then you’ll be on your way,” the doctor said.  
“Okay.”  
Dr. Carson put his stethoscope to his ears. He reached the other end out towards Harry, who flinched slightly.  
“I’m just going to listen to your breathing,” he said, as he gently slid his hand up Harry’s shirt, setting the stethoscope on his chest, “alright, take a deep breath for me.” Harry obeyed. “Good, and another? Very good, ‘Arry, now I’m going to do the same on your back. Turn for me? Very good, take a deep breath. And another. Good, now turn back for me, I’m going to listen to your ‘eart, okay? You’re doing really well, ‘Arry.”  
This went on with several different tests, and the entire time Louis stood to the side, watching. Harry wondered why he was so insistent upon staying with Harry if he wanted. He could imagine half a dozen things that he thought Louis would prefer to do instead of watch him have his knees beaten with a tiny rubber hammer, but Louis stayed. It wasn’t until Dr. Carson asked if Harry was comfortable stripping down to his boxers that Louis spoke. Harry didn’t know if he could say no, since it was part of the routine, but Louis noticed his discomfort immediately.  
“Maybe we can do that next time?” He said to Dr. Carson, “I think he’s still a bit worked up from what happened, and if anything was really bothering him, he would let you take a look, right Harry?”  
Harry nodded.  
“I know it’s difficult. Everything else ‘as checked out fine, so I think we can safely assume that it’ll be alright to skip that.” Dr. Carson replied, understandingly. “All that’s left now are vaccinations. I don’t ‘ave your medical ‘istory with me. Do you know if you’re up to date with them?”  
Harry nodded again.  
“I had them done this summer,” he replied.  
“Then I think you’re all good to go. Stop by the pharmaceutical desk to pick up your inhaler on the way out,” Dr. Carson said. “It was good to see you again, ‘Arry. Louis.”  
Louis shook the doctor’s hand, and the three of them exited the room. Dr. Carson turned left, while Harry and Louis took a left to pick up Harry’s inhaler. When they climbed back into the car, Harry immediately felt safer. He noticed that Louis, too, looked more relaxed once they had made it into the vehicle, and was even more so once the car was moving. They didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with small talk, and instead enjoyed the quiet hum of the engine as the car drove the long distance from the doctor’s office to Louis’. Harry’s attention drifted to out the window, and he watched as hundreds of trees and houses and shops passed by in a blur. He was entranced by the vibrant colours on the signs, and the pastels in the sky. It was magical to him, since he hadn’t seen the world in months. He was thrilled to see the world around him.   
“How are you feeling?” Louis asked, when they had been driving for a good half hour.  
“Alright.” Harry replied.  
“Are you hungry?” Louis wondered.  
“I suppose.”  
“Jess is making food for us. I expect it’ll be ready when we get home.”   
“You’re very nice to me,” Harry observed.  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”  
“I dunno. I’m just not used to it, is all?” Harry shrugged.  
Louis frowned, “Well, I’ll always be nice to you.”  
The rest of the ride was silent. Harry didn’t know how to respond to Louis’ promise, since he didn’t know if he believed Louis to begin with. He expected Louis had known that, since he didn’t press Harry after that, and instead looked out the window at the passing cars. It would be a good half an hour before they arrived home, and he could tell that Louis understood Harry’s dilemma. Maybe he was being honest with Harry after all.

When they arrived home, Louis sent Harry to his room to put on some of the new clothes on before they sat down to eat. He knew Harry was hesitant to accept the clothing, since Louis had insisted on purchasing only the nicest clothes, but he refused to settle for less. Harry had had nothing, so to make up for it, Louis wanted him to have everything. He decided he’d go to his office to work for a little while, and document what Harry had told him and the detective the night before.   
Louis liked his office. Everything in the room was as it should be, and the only thing out of place was the sofa, which was too big, but too puffy and comfortable for Louis to consider replacing it. It wasn’t much of an office at all. The room was split in two parts by large French doors with large glass paneling that were always open. One side of the room had several chairs along with a grand piano. He barely knew how to play, but his brother had loved it, so it stayed. Occasionally he found himself sitting with his hands hovering over the keys, posed to play one of the few simple tunes he knew, but he rarely did so. It was Dalton’s thing, not his, and it felt wrong to play for too long, when the piano wasn’t meant for him. He walked into the other half of the room and took a seat on the sofa, causing Bennie to jump off of the other end and scurry into another room. He got comfortable and looked around at the room he hadn’t been in for days.  
This side of the room had his comfy sofa and a coffee table facing a large television. He rarely turned on said television, but he sat in front of it constantly, on his laptop. He would lay on the sofa with his back against the armrest, and his feet shoved into the groove between the seat cushions, and he’d work. He spent hours on end working. Whether he actually loved it or not was debatable, but he was no doubt a workaholic, and spent more time in his office than in any other room in the house when he was there. Working had been Louis’ lifeline for three long years at that point. Three years of learning every detail about Jack that he could get his hands on. Three years of buying every victim he had held captive in that dark room of his. Three years of bringing back together families that were losing hope.   
He opened his laptop on the sofa and pulled up the file for Harry’s case. He realized he had been slacking with work, as the only information on Harry’s experience was Jack’s whereabouts, and how many previous people had been in Harry’s position not too long ago. Those people had files of their own, brimming with information that seemed to have no distinct pattern. He typed up everything he could on Harry’s case. So far, of the seven, Harry was the farthest from Jack’s usual captives; physically, he was the tallest, cleanest, and he was the only one with long hair. He was also the youngest, and the only one to arrive at Louis’ house without struggling. He stared at the case summaries for quite some time, trying yet again to find the commonality between them all. This had been a common practice for Louis, who had spent hours on end slaving over the files in attempt to find any little detail that might point him towards Dalton. Nothing added up no matter which way he looked at the case files, and he grew more and more frustrated the more he looked at them. The letters and numbers started to sound meaningless in his head. Just dates and names that didn’t tell him what he wanted to know.

V-02  
Perrie Edwards, F  
Age: 22  
Captive: Four years  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 1yr.  
Family: Parents are married.   
From: South Shields, England  
Height: 160cm  
Weight: 47kg  
Hair: Medium, Blonde   
Race: White  
Eyes: Blue  
Other: Nasal Piercing.

Victim was kept in dark and cold room, naked, and alone. Evidence shows that victim was underfed and physically weak. While at Warrington, victim was kept in solitude for the majority of time. When retrieved, victim was hesitant to go with Tomlinson, resulting in Jack hitting the victim into cooperation.  
Victim arrived at Chez-Lou with major scaring and bruising, but no other injuries. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline. Victim to sexual assault at Warrington, upon further examination, evidence of sexual assault was found. Victim refused to comment. 

 

V-03  
Liam Payne, M  
Age: 19  
Captive: Two Years  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 3mo.  
Family: Two older sisters, Parents are married.   
From Wolverhampton, England.   
Height: 180cm  
Weight: 54kg  
Hair: Short, Light Brown  
Race: White  
Eyes: Brown  
Other: Birthmark on neck, damaged kidney.

While at Warrington, victim remembered isolation. Contact was only made for feeding and bathing. Room was dark and cold. When retrieved, victim was naked and covered in filth.   
Victim initially fought Tomlinson upon rescue. Arrived at Chez-Lou with significant scarring, no visible bruising, and a newly broken tibia (victim estimated two days before rescue). No otherwise lasting injuries sustained. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline. Upon examination, sexual assault was evident, but the victim refused to comment on details of said assault. Victim recalled long periods of starvation while in solitude. The emaciated body of the victim showed signs of severe malnutrition.   
V-05  
Eleanor Calder, F  
Age: 23  
Captive: One month  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 2wks.  
Family: None.   
From: London, England  
Height: 175cm  
Weight: 54kg  
Hair: Medium, Dark Brown   
Race: Multiracial  
Eyes: Brown  
Other: None.

Victim recalls extended periods of isolation at Warrington. When retrieved, victim was naked. Victim was physically weak.  
Arrived at Chez-Lou with no noticeable physical injuries, but fought rescue. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline. Resisted rescue by Tomlinson. Victim had no signs of sexual abuse, mental or physical. 

 

V-06  
Niall Horan, M  
Age: 20  
Captive: Six months  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 1mo.  
Family: One older brother, parents are divorced.   
From: Mullingar, Ireland  
Height: 176cm  
Weight: 50kg  
Hair: Short, Dark Brown   
Race: White  
Eyes: Blue  
Other: None.

Victim recalls extended periods of isolation and starvation at Warrington, dotted with contact only made for feeding and bathing. Room was dark and cold. When retrieved, victim was naked and covered in filth, as per the other victims. Victim was physically weak, attributed to malnutrition.  
Arrived at Chez-Lou with no scarring, bruising, or other injuries, but resisted rescue by Tomlinson. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline. Victim admitted to unwelcomed sexual intercourse with men brought into the room at Warrington, but upon further examination, evidence of sexual assault wasn’t found. Victim attributes this to “gentle” attackers, and long periods with no interaction. Victim refused specific details of said assaults. 

 

V-07  
Harry Styles, M  
Age: 18  
Captive: Two months  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 2wks.  
Family: One older sister, parents?   
From: Cheshire, England  
Height: 186cm  
Weight: 60kg  
Hair: Long, Dark Brown   
Race: White  
Eyes: Green  
Other: Dozens of tattoos.

Victim recalls extended periods of isolation and starvation at Warrington. When retrieved, victim was naked, and weak.  
Arrived at Chez-Lou with no damage to left wrist. Victim admitted to unwelcomed sexual intercourse with men brought into the room at Warrington. Victim refused to comment on specific details of said assaults. 

Louis sighed. He couldn’t see a single similarity in the cases, aside from each of the victims being from the United Kingdom. He didn’t get it. Some were girls, some were boys. Some were short, some were tall. Some were healthy, some were not. Some had short hair, some had long hair. Some were sexually assaulted, some were left alone. Some fought him, some didn’t. Some came from broken homes, some didn’t. Some had siblings, some were only children. Some were kept for years, others for a matter of days. None of them were the same.   
He huffed and closed his laptop, tossing it to the other end of the sofa. He wasn’t in the mood right then to work. He wanted to focus on Harry, and make sure Harry got home to his family. That was his top priority. He returned to the piano, and let his hands drift over the keys to sound the melancholy tune that he knew so well. He played it perfectly, letting the melody wash over him. It echoed slightly in the room, and he knew the whole house could hear him play. The sounds reminded him of Dalton, and he forced himself to finish the piece.   
Just as he was striking the final keys, Harry walked in, standing at the doorway with a curious look on his face. Louis looked up. Harry was dressed in black skinny jeans and a patterned satin shirt, and his hair fell around his shoulders. The outfit looked uniquely odd on the boy, but in a way that seemed to work. Louis smiled.  
“Hi,” he said quietly.  
“Hi,” Harry replied, “you’re good.” He commented.  
Louis shrugged.  
“It’s not really my thing.”  
“Whose thing is it then?” Harry asked.  
He walked up to Louis, and sat in one of the many chairs near the piano.  
“Was my brother’s.” Harry nodded. “Do you play?”  
Harry shrugged, “I’m not very good anymore.”  
“Play for me?” Louis asked.   
He was the only one to play the piano, and he wanted to hear Harry. Harry hesitated but took a seat beside Louis on the piano bench, and set his hands on the keys.  
“It’s been a while,” he warned.  
His hands glided across the keys delicately, letting the melody wander. Louis didn’t recognize the song, but listened anyways. It started sweet and held an air of innocence that captivated Louis, before it twisted to a slightly darker, almost sinister sound. Harry’s hands moved from chord to chord until the song trickled out as innocently as it had started.   
Louis was impressed.  
“You happen to play very, very well, Harry,” Louis said quietly. “What song was that?”  
“I don’t know…never gave it a title.”  
“You wrote that?”  
“Yeah. I used to play more, but I stopped having time, so I got worse.”  
He stood up from the bench, and Louis followed.   
“I doubt you got worse, based on that.” Louis shook his head, “That was incredible.”  
“Thanks.” Harry said shyly.  
Louis led them both to the kitchen, where Jess had laid out sandwiches. They sat and ate for a few minutes before Louis spoke.  
“I was thinking,” he began, “that if you wanted to, we could go to England tomorrow.”  
“What?” Harry asked.  
“You said you don’t have your parents’ numbers, so I thought we could go to their house, since I’m sure you know their address, yeah?”  
Harry’s eyes lit up.  
“Seriously?”  
“Seriously.” Louis replied. “You haven’t seen them in months. Let’s change that.”  
Harry nodded vigorously.  
“Please,” he said earnestly.  
“Alright, I’ll let Tom know,” Louis smiled.  
Harry nodded again then paused.  
“Why do you have a driver?” He asked Louis curiously.  
“I never did learn, and I found that Tom is nice company. He and Jess live here, and watch the house when I’m gone. It’s more their home than mine, since I’m not often around.” Louis explained.  
“Why do you have it then, if you don’t mind me asking?” Harry asked quietly.  
“You can ask me anything,” Louis said. “And it was my father’s. I inherited it, and it’s an ideal safe house for work. I asked Tom and Jess to live here so that there’s more of a cover for when I bring people here.”  
“People like me?” Harry frowned. Louis nodded. “How many?”  
“You’re the sixth I’ve brought here, but the seventh in my case.” Louis said solemnly.  
“Oh,” Harry said. “Why do you do this?” He wondered.  
“That’s not a happy story,” Louis replied slowly. “I don’t think you’d want to hear it.”  
“Okay,” Harry frowned.  
“Don’t worry about it,” Louis said, noticing the look on Harry’s face.   
Harry nodded and looked around.  
“Where’s Baby Ben?” He asked.  
Louis grinned, “I’m sure he’s around; I saw him earlier.”   
As if on cue, Baby Ben sauntered out through the open door to the basement, and jumped onto the wine rack. Louis rolled his eyes. Harry’s eyes twinkled at the sight of the kitten. He got up from his seat and walked over to Baby Ben, who welcomed Harry’s attention. Harry picked up the kitten and brought him back to the table.  
“He’s cute,” Harry noted.  
“He likes you,” Louis shrugged, “more than anyone else I suspect.”


	3. Dalton

Harry was on his way home. He was sat in the car with Tom, since Louis had figured Harry should head home by himself, so he could focus entirely on his family. Louis also happened to have a meeting with his team, so they agreed Harry would go alone. He said goodbye to Harry and watched as the car pulled onto the street. This was the last time he’d see Harry, and it was a melancholy moment for Louis, who had quickly taken a liking to the boy, but he watched him go all the same before returning to his room. He rarely put on dressy clothes, but when he met with his team, he found people paid closer attention to what he had to say if he was nicely dressed, rather than in a t-shirt and jeans. It likely was due to him being in his early twenties, he guessed. He decided on a blazer and plain white shirt, and a pair of shoes that he hadn’t worn in months from the back of his closet.   
Since Tom was driving Harry home, Louis hired a cab to take him to the office after he had eaten breakfast. It was times like these when he wondered why he didn’t just get his license, but the thought left his mind when he arrived at the office, his attention focused solely on his case. He climbed out of the cab with his laptop, and paid the driver. He chose to climb the stairs to the conference room, and was pleased to see everyone was already assembled in the room, ready to go.   
“Morning,” he said, taking a seat. There was a collective reply from the group, and Louis nodded. “Alright. Who wants to start?”   
Louis looked around the room at his team. Calum raised his hand part way, signaling he would start the meeting. Calum Hood was a Pacific Islander that had moved to London as a teenager for school. Louis had found him a couple years later at a major technology convention in the city, and had offered him a place on the team. Since then, Calum had been responsible for anything and everything the team did with coding, tracking, and anything else that involved more than basic computer knowledge. Calum had a couple people working under him as well, but he was the go-to for what Louis deemed ‘classified information.’  
“I can.” Calum said. “We’ve been tracking the transaction between you and Jack, as you know, and from what we can tell, the money is going directly from Jack to an encrypted account on the Russian border. We can’t obtain any more information on the account, but we’ve been watching it carefully. It seems as though the payments go in, and exactly twenty-four hours later they go out. Only Jack’s payments, though. We can see that other transactions are made with the account, but none are being removed. So far, we have been unable to track the other accounts interacting with the Russian one, though.” He explained.   
Documents were passed around the room with the data Calum had collected, and Louis read over the packet quickly before moving on.  
“Good,” Louis said, “That’s a start. Anyone else?”  
“Forensics collected everything they could from Harry’s clothing, so we’ll get the results from that soon,” added Michael, Louis’ newest intern.   
He was fresh out of school with bright red hair and tattoos, and had joined the team claiming forensics work was like ‘an art piece that needs to be deciphered.’  
“Anything new on Jack?” Louis asked. No one responded. “Three weeks and we’ve got nothing?” He said through clenched teeth.  
“Without bugging his house we have limited options,” Calum said, “If we just—”  
“He’s too observant,” Louis interrupted, “We’ve talked about this.”  
“Just one. Next time you make a transaction—”  
“I don’t want for there to be another transaction, I want to stop the bastard and his ring.” Louis snapped. He paused, collecting himself. “Pardon my frustration,” he said slowly, “I just hoped that we would have gotten somewhere since our last meeting.”  
“If I may,” Calum said, “we’ve made a little progress, which is better than no progress.”  
Louis’ phone rang. He glanced at the screen seeing that Tom was calling.  
“I need to take this,” he said, answering, “Hey, what is it?” Louis asked.  
His team occupied themselves while Louis listened to the reply.  
“I need to bring ‘Arry back,” the Frenchman said without a greeting.  
“Is Harry okay?”  
The room fell silent at this question, all eyes on Louis.  
“I think it would be best if ‘ee stays with you right now. ‘Ee is okay, but ‘is family, not so much.”   
“Tom, what happened?” Louis said, starting to panic.  
“’Arry’s house burned down,” Tom said quietly. “And ‘Arry’s family was inside. I spoke to the neighbors.”  
He swore, causing the tension in the room to rise as everyone waited for an explanation.  
“Is Harry okay?” Louis asked again. It was the same question, but it meant something entirely different.  
“’Ee will be,” Tom said, “We’re on our way now. I think you should be ‘ome when we get back.”  
“I’m as far out as you are. Can you bring him here?” Louis asked.  
“Is that a good idea?” Tom wondered.  
“Probably not, can you do it anyways? There’s plenty of security here.”  
“Alright, we’re on our way.”  
“I’ll be here. Tell him I’ll be here.” Louis replied.  
“I will. Ciao, Louis.”  
“Ciao.”  
Louis was shocked, as the call ended. He stared blankly ahead at nothing in particular. Nothing seemed to be going right to begin with, and now this—he didn’t know what to think of it.   
“Louis?” Calum asked, “What happened?”  
Louis blew out the breath he had been holding in.   
“Tom just told me that Harry’s mother and sister are dead.” Everyone gasped, and Louis composed himself the best he could. “He’s on his way back with Harry now. Does anyone else have any good news they’d like to add before I lose my mind?” Louis asked.  
“Do we know how they died?” Detective Watson asked.  
Louis frowned. “House fire, why?”  
“When was this?”  
“I don’t know?”  
“Calum, can you pull up the surveillance footage on the other five?” the detective asked.  
Calum nodded and began typing on his computer. “They’re all down,” he said a minute later. “Every one of them. Why are they down?”   
“Calm down, Calum,” the detective said, “Panicking isn’t going to help the situation. Let’s call each of the families and see if they pick up.”  
“He’s right, who wants to do that? I need to keep my line open for Harry.” Louis agreed.  
“I can do it,” said a blonde—one of Calum’s assistants.   
“I’ll share the file,” Calum said, focusing again on his computer.  
“What matters is that Harry is okay. We’ll make sure the others are okay as well, and then we’ll work from there.” Louis said, more to himself than to the group, but everyone nodded. Calum’s assistant left the room with the list of numbers, and Louis stared at the clock.   
“Calum, can we get a profile going on the Russian account? Anything you’ve got, let’s get it in the files.” Detective Watson asked.  
“There’s really nothing—”  
“Anything you have will help, Calum.” Louis interrupted.   
“And Louis, let’s pull up Jack’s file. You said he wasn’t alone when you collected Harry, yes?” Louis nodded. “What did they look like? Russian maybe?”  
“I can’t remember,” Louis replied, “All I can tell you about Russia is that it’s big and cold. I didn’t pay any attention to the other people, I was focused on Jack and Harry.” Louis whined helplessly.  
Calum’s assistant returned, “No one picked up.” He said solemnly.   
Louis swore again, loudly.   
“I’m going to go wait in the lobby,” Louis told the group, “Keep me updated on everything. If someone sneezes I want to know.”  
“We’ll keep you updated.” The detective promised/  
Everyone nodded in agreement, and Louis left the room. He walked into the elevator and slumped against the wall as the doors closed. Nothing was going right, and he was furious. First Harry’s family, now all of the others. It was planned, it was precise, and it was only going to get worse if they couldn’t figure out what was going on. The elevator dinged and Louis stepped out. He walked to the receptionist. She looked up and brushed her raven hair from her face.  
“I need security to be upped. I want someone posted at every door, and someone on every level. Nobody comes in who isn’t carrying an ID or isn’t otherwise approved by me today.” He said tiredly.   
“I’ll call the head of security and let him know. Anything else I can do for you Mr. Tomlinson?” The receptionist asked.  
“A couple bottles of water would be lovely,” he added.  
She leaned behind the desk and pulled out two bottles of water from the mini fridge.   
“Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.”  
Louis took a seat on the sofa facing the door and sighed. He was incredibly on edge and worried about Harry.   
His watch read a quarter to noon when he next checked it, signaling that Harry and Tom would be arriving soon, based on how far their destination was from his office. He nodded at the security guard who took up the post at the main entrance. The building already had extensive security, due to the high amount of classified information held within the offices, but Louis didn’t want to take chances. If someone was after all of the families, they were likely after Jack’s victims as well, and Louis would be damned if whoever it was got into his building.   
Tom and Harry walked through the first set of doors, and the guard blocked their path to the second set of doors into the building.  
“It’s okay, they’re with me,” Louis said, standing. “Don’t let anyone else in that doesn’t have a badge.” He added.  
The guard nodded and let the two pass. Tom led Harry to Louis, and the three walked to the elevator. Louis watched Harry for a moment as they waited for the elevator to arrive. He looked exhausted, and empty. His eyes were red and puffy, and he clutched a tissue so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white. Louis’ heart broke for the boy yet again as they entered the elevator. He hit the button for the seventeenth floor. He didn’t know what to say to Harry, so he didn’t speak. Harry only stared blankly—dully—at the floor. Louis remembered when his father had passed. It was one of the most painful experiences in his life, and he couldn’t remember a single thing someone said to him that made the situation any better. He imagined Harry would feel the same, so instead he offered his presence, knowing that company would help more than anything else Louis could try to do for him.   
He brought Tom and Harry into the conference room, and had Harry take a seat to the side. The rest of the room’s occupants did their best not to ogle Harry, which Louis appreciated, knowing that he hadn’t left them with much information on the situation. He kneeled beside the boy, and handed him the water bottle.  
“I’ll go talk to Detective Watson,” Tom said, leaving the two.  
Louis looked back to Harry, who hadn’t done a thing.   
“Harry,” he began, “I wish I could tell you it’ll get better, but I’d be lying. What I can tell you is it’ll get easier.” He promised. “And I’ll be here if you need me. I’m not going to leave you.”  
“Okay,” Harry muttered.  
Louis gestured for Tom to come back over for a moment, and whispered instructions into his ear, “Can you go get Baby Ben? I think he’d be good for Harry.”  
“It’ll take me five hours to get back,” Tom frowned.  
“We’re going to be here a while,” Louis sighed, “Might as well. I think we’ll be staying here over night as is. I’ll book us rooms so that you don’t have to drive again.”  
Tom agreed with a quick “I’ll be back,” and left, promising to hurry back as soon as he could. Louis didn’t know what he would do without Tom. So far today, he had driven from Paris to Cheshire to Oxford, and now he was going to Paris and back to Oxford, just for Harry’s sake, and Louis couldn’t be more grateful.  
“Harry, do you want to stay in here, or would you rather I take you to a different room?” Louis asked, “I understand if you don’t want to be around so many people.”  
Harry shook his head, “Here’s fine,” he said sadly, “I’d prefer to, uh, to stay with you.”  
“Okay,” Louis agreed, “I’m right here.” He stayed kneeling by the boy, who was so evidently heartbroken. Louis sighed and stood up. “Scoot over,” he commanded gently.   
Harry looked up. “What?” He asked quietly.  
“Scoot over,” Louis repeated, holding out his arms, “You need a good hug.” Harry obeyed hesitantly, and let Louis take a seat and wrap him in his warm embrace. “I’m right here,” Louis repeated.   
He ran his hand up and down Harry’s back as the boy broke down. Harry had just lost everything, and it hurt Louis to watch. He simply cried into Louis’ shoulder, and spewed out gibberish between heart-wrenching sobs.   
Louis appreciated that his team continued to work instead of watching Harry break down, and he knew he would have to thank them for their professionalism once Harry had calmed down some. For the time being, he continued to rub Harry’s back comfortingly, and let the boy cry it out.  
It was a good half hour of the two of them sitting there in the corner before Harry’s sobs slowed, and were replaced by the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing as he fell asleep in Louis’ arms. Louis stayed in the chair while Harry slept, not wanting to risk waking the boy. He sighed before focusing his attention on his team. They were all talking quietly and looking intensely at their laptops, and Louis wondered if they had made any progress since Harry had arrived. Michael noticed Louis watching, and walked over. He kneeled beside Louis and Harry.  
“We sent patrol to each of the houses, and we’re waiting to hear back from one of them,” Michael whispered, “So far, Liam’s family is dead, as is the same with Eleanor and Perrie. We haven’t heard back from Niall’s, but we’re expecting the same answer. From what we know, all of the victims are alive, but no one can tell us where they are.”  
“And this all happened in the last week?” Louis asked, his voice a whisper as well.  
Michael nodded, “None of them died the same way, though. The Edwards’ died from carbon monoxide poisoning, Eleanor’s family in a car crash, and Liam’s in a home invasion, which we can confidently say was intentional.”  
“How are we only hearing about this now,” Louis hissed.  
Harry stirred slightly and Louis frowned.  
“We only check in every week or so, since the security is so high.” Michael explained, “At least, that’s what Calum said. He’s beating himself up over it.”  
Louis sighed, “It’s not his fault. Right now we need to find the others.” Louis decided. We’ll do that, and we’ll make sure that you can collect evidence from each house. Someone was in all of them, and I don’t like that.”  
Michael stood up, “I’ll do that.”  
“And could you tell Calum to book a room at the hotel on the corner? Top floor. We’re not going back to Chez-Lou while this isn’t sorted.”  
“You got it, boss.”  
Michael returned to the group and spoke with Calum, who gave Louis a thumbs-up, and began typing again.   
No breakthroughs happened in the time that Louis sat with Harry, and he was more and more on edge after every passing second. At one point, Calum came over to tell Louis that he had booked the hotel room, and to let him know that Niall’s family had suffered the same fate as Liam’s, and Niall was nowhere to be found, either. Louis wondered if Jack had recaptured his victims, but Calum assured him this wasn’t the case, as Jack was on heavy surveillance that had only been upped since they found out about Harry’s mum and sister.  
Calum was called over by his assistant, and after talking quietly, Calum returned to Louis’ side to explain what was going on.  
“They found Liam.” He said.   
“Where?” Louis demanded, relieved that Liam was okay.  
“He was hiding in the shed behind his house. The patrol found him when they were authorized to check the property.”  
“Oh, thank God he’s okay,” Louis sighed. “Where is he now?”  
“Detective Watson asked that he be brought here. He thinks having everyone in the same place is better.”  
“I agree.”  
“Should I book a room for him alongside yours?” Calum asked.  
“I think that’s a good idea. Why don’t you reserve the floor so we can keep everyone around?” He replied.  
“Will do.”  
“Let me know if we find the others,” Louis ordered.  
“Alright,” Calum nodded and returned to his computer.   
Louis sighed again, and Harry stirred, starting to wake up. Louis continued rubbing Harry’s back gently as the boy woke completely.   
“Hey,” Louis said gently.  
“Hello,” Harry replied dully.   
“Did you sleep alright?” Louis asked as Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes.   
He still had the tissue clutched in his hand. He shrugged in reply and yawned.   
“I suppose.”  
“We’ve booked a hotel room just up the street, since it’s a long drive back to Paris.”  
Harry nodded, “Okay,” he replied.  
“And Tom should be back soon.”  
“How long was I asleep?” Harry asked.  
“About four hours. You needed it,” Louis replied. “Are you hungry? There’s a vending machine in the hallway if you want anything.” He explained.  
Harry shook his head, “I’m not hungry, thanks though.”  
“Well, when you are, we can get you something.” Harry nodded. “Do you wanna see what we’ve been doing?” Louis asked.  
Harry shrugged, “Okay,” he sighed.  
“Lots has happened today.” Louis said, “And I suppose it’ll be good for you to know what’s going on. Come on, Michael can tell you about it so I can get some work done.”  
Harry followed Louis to Michael, who greeted Harry warmly. Louis left Harry with his team as his phone rang, and he stepped out of the room.  
“Mr. Tomlinson?”  
It was one of the guards.  
“Yes?”  
“A Mr. Tom Blanche is here for you in the lobby with Ms. Jess.”  
“Let them in.”  
“Sir, he has a cat.”  
“I know.”  
“Would you like me to confiscate the cat?”  
“No, he’s supposed to have the cat.” Louis said, exasperated, “I said let them in.” And he added as an afterthought, “Get them badges, too.”  
“Yes, sir.”   
“Oh, and one more thing.”  
“Yes, sir?” The guard asked.  
“Liam Payne and an officer –I don’t know who—should be here any minute now, so let them in as well. I don’t want anyone else without a badge to enter the building, though.” Louis said.  
“Okay, sir.” The guard said, “Should I send Mr. Blanche to you?”  
“Yes please.”  
“With the cat?”  
“Yes, with the cat.”  
“Alright, they’re on their way up.”  
The line disconnected and Louis sighed. He was ready to go to bed, he noted, seeing that the clock read just after ten.   
The elevator doors dinged, and out walked Tom, carrying Baby Ben, alongside a sleepy Jess. Louis could have cried, he was so pleased that something had gone right. He gratefully took the cat from Tom.  
“Thank you so much, I owe you.”  
“It was nothing, Louis, I don’t mind,” Tom said, yawning.  
“No, no.” Louis protested, “I ask far too much of you. Both of you.” He said, turning to Jess.  
Tom shook his head, “’Ow is ‘Arry?” He asked, changing the subject.  
“He fell asleep after you left. He’s pretty worked up, as you can imagine, but he’s doing a bit better. Calum and Michael are telling him what happened today.” Louis explained.  
“Do we really want to tell ‘im about everything?” He frowned.  
“I think he’s better off not being in the dark, but I don’t want to tell him, no.” Louis said as the three walked into the conference room again. Harry looked up and Louis noted that he very nearly smiled when he saw Baby Ben. Louis grinned at his reaction, and brought the cat to Harry, who took the wiggling creature.  
“Hi there, Bennie,” he cooed, stroking the kitten’s head.  
Harry returned to Michael’s side, where he was watching over Michael’s shoulder at his computer screen. Michael was pointing out different things that Louis couldn’t see, and Harry was nodding intently, paying attention to every detail as he scratched behind Baby Ben’s ears. Louis walked back to Jess and Tom, who were watching Harry.  
“’Ee really likes the cat, doesn’t ‘ee?” Jess noted.  
Louis nodded, “I thought it would do him well to have some unconditional love right now.”  
“I agree,” Jess said. “Tom told me what ‘ad ‘appened. Poor thing ‘as ‘ad quite the day, no?”  
Louis nodded. “He’s not the only one. All of the families,” Louis trailed off.  
Jess gasped, “All of them? What about the victims?”  
“Right now, we think that they’re alive, but we only have confirmation on Liam, who should be on his way. An officer is bringing him in.”  
“Is ‘ee okay?” Jess wondered.  
Louis shrugged, “I haven’t been told. I know he’s physically okay, but that’s all I can tell you. I’m sure he’ll let you worry about him when he gets here.”  
Jess smiled, chuckling.  
“I worry about all of them,” she defended herself.  
“I know,” Louis said, “I’m just teasing. If you want, you can wait in the lobby for him.” Louis offered. “You can obviously stay here if you prefer,” he backtracked, “I just thought you might want to see him first.”  
Jess nodded and looked at Tom, who shrugged, “I’ll go with you,” he told her, “but let me talk to Detective Watson first. I think ‘ee wanted to ask me about ‘Arry.”   
Louis left the two to stand with Harry. He listened as Michael explained what was going on in a photoset of the Calder home. Harry watched intently, and Louis placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked up.  
“Just let me know when you want to go to the hotel, alright?”  
Harry nodded, “Soon?” He asked quietly.  
“Of course,” Louis replied.  
“We’re almost done here, so you guys can head out whenever.” Michael said.  
“You’ve been great,” Louis told Michael, “Really, thank you.”  
“It’s no big deal. You should bring him onto the team; he’s good at this stuff.” Michael said seriously.  
“Yeah?” Louis asked, looking at Harry.  
Harry shrugged and Michael laughed.  
“He’s got a knack for patterns. He noticed some things that we hadn’t. He’s been a real help.”  
“I saw a couple footprints, nothing special,” Harry said, denying Michael’s comments.  
“We knew about the footprints,” Michael told Louis, “but Harry here takes one look at the picture and goes ‘that looks like the bottom of my old runners’, so now we have a brand to go off of. I’m not sure what we can do with that, to be honest with you, but it’s the first lead from these pictures that we’ve gotten since the first look, so I’ll take what I can get.”  
“I’m impressed, Harry,” Louis said, “I might have to consider bringing you on the team, yeah?”  
Harry shook his head, “It’s just shoes.”  
“’Just shoes’ might bring us one step closer to stopping Jack.” Louis insisted. “This is good.”  
“He’s right,” Michael added. “Here, this is the last one.” He told Harry.  
Louis looked up at the door as they swung open to reveal four people. Tom and Jess were on either side of an exhausted-looking Liam, followed by an officer. Louis immediately went to Liam’s side, wrapping him in a hug.  
“Hey.”   
“Hey,” Liam repeated.  
“Are you okay?” Louis demanded. He pushed Liam back and looked him up and down, checking to see if there were any noticeable injuries. “Are you hurt?”  
“I’m in one piece,” Liam replied.  
“’Ee is not,” Jess said, outraged, but calm, as her hands landed protectively on Liam’s shoulders.  
Louis looked at her, “What is it?”  
“’Ee is limping like a baby deer, but ‘ee won’t admit it.”  
“I’m fine, Jess,” Liam sighed. He looked pointedly at Louis, “I’m fine.”  
Louis narrowed his eyes, “Tom, your vote?”  
“It’s not like ‘e’s made of glass, Louis, but yes, ‘ee ‘as a limp.”  
“I’m not a doll, don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Liam said sourly.   
Louis ignored Liam for the time being and looked at the officer.  
“You found him?” He asked.  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Thank you.” Louis said sincerely.  
“Just doing my job. I’ll be going now.” He said shortly.  
Tom walked the officer out, while Jess fussed over Liam.  
“Jesus, Jess, I’m fine, I promise.” He snapped as he pushed her hands away.  
“I worry,” Jess said.  
“I know you do.”  
“Then let me, Liam.”  
Louis attempted to hide his smirk, satisfied that Liam was, indeed, in one piece. He looked to Jess.  
“I’m going to take Harry to the hotel. You can come whenever you’d like, but we’re going to head out,” Louis said to her.   
“We’ll probably join you soon. I’ll see what Tom says. Tell ‘Arry I said ciao.” Jess replied before focusing her attention back on Liam, who groaned.  
“Goes for you, too, Liam. You can stay with Tom and Jess, or with me and Harry, or any of the others if you prefer.” Louis offered.  
“Thanks, Lou.” Liam said. “I think I’ll stay with Jess so she doesn’t lose sleep over my limp,” he teased.  
Jess lit up at this, “Good.”  
Louis smiled and returned to Harry, who was still holding Baby Ben. He frowned. He hadn’t thought to see if the hotel allowed pets, and it was a bit late to check. Louis just hoped they’d allow Baby Ben to sleep in Harry’s room.

Harry collapsed onto the hotel bed as soon as Louis closed the door behind them. Louis had gone into the bathroom to take a shower, and Harry didn’t move. He just stayed face down on the bed. Baby Ben curled up beside him and he rolled to the side. He was glad that the cat was there. Everyone was worried about him, and he couldn’t honestly tell them he was okay. He liked Baby Ben for that. Baby Ben didn’t ask questions. Baby Ben didn’t keep touching him and didn’t keep trying to comfort him. Baby Ben just purred and settled happily on Harry’s chest.   
Harry took a shaky breath. That morning he thought he would see his family for the first time in months, and here he was, hours later, as an orphan with nothing to his name. His sister was dead. Gemma, his mentor, his friend, was burned to a crisp, and he hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye. His mother, who he loved so dearly, was dead. He had nothing left. The thought weighed on him like a ton of bricks, crushing him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe properly, and the thought scared him so much that he shoved his hand into his pocket to get his inhaler. The sudden movement startled the cat, who relocated to the end of the bed. He didn’t need his inhaler right then, but he was better safe than sorry, and took a generous puff on the device. He put the inhaler on the bedside table and climbed under the blankets, having only just remembered to kick off his shoes. Baby Ben curled up beneath the blankets with Harry, his furry little head poking out from beneath the covers.  
Louis came out of the bathroom and walked over to Harry.  
“You okay?” He asked, “I mean, you’re not okay, but are you going to be okay?” He corrected himself.  
Harry let out an empty laugh, “No.” He said, his voice muffled by the pillow.  
“I’m sorry,” Louis said. He rubbed Harry’s shoulder.  
Harry was silent for a moment.  
“You’re not sorry,” he said weakly, “You’re just scared I’m gonna kill myself or something, aren’t you?”  
Louis gasped and tugged on Harry’s shoulder to roll him over. Harry pulled the blankets over his head. Baby Ben mewled at the sudden movement.  
“Harry, don’t be ridiculous,” Louis said quickly, “You don’t want to die, do you?” When Harry didn’t reply, Louis took a seat on the side of Harry’s bed and pulled the blankets away from Harry and Baby Ben. “Harry answer me, please.”  
“I don’t know, Louis, it wouldn’t hurt, would it?” He said sadly, “My sister is dead, my mum is dead. My father has been gone for years—I might as well join them! Why not, right?” Harry exclaimed.   
He sounded almost angry, but really he felt helpless. He just wanted his mum and sister back. To at least see them one last time. He couldn’t think of anything else that would make him feel better, and since having his family back wasn’t an option, he wanted nothing more than to die, too. He pulled the blankets back over his head. Baby Ben mewled.  
“Why not? Harry, I can give you a hundred reasons why not.” Louis said harshly, tugging the blankets away from Harry’s face again, “You’re only eighteen, Harry, you have so much to live for.”  
“When you’re as alone as I am, you’ll get it,” Harry said.   
He yanked the blankets from Louis’ hands and back over his head. Baby Ben mewled.  
“I get it, Harry, I do.” Louis said softly, “I know what this feels like, and I promise you it’s going to be okay.”  
“How do you know how this feels?” Harry demanded, his eyes watering beneath the covers, “How could you possibly imagine what it feels like to never get to see your sister again? To have your entire life ripped away from you, and finally get a chance to go back, only to find that everyone you love is dead? All I want is my family, Louis. You don’t know what that feels like. How would you ever know what it feels like to stare at a pile of ashes and know your sister died there? To know that the woman who gave birth to you burned alive in her own home? Do you know what that feels like, Louis?” Harry cried from beneath the covers, “Do you know how it feels to feel dirty no matter what you do? Have you even got an inkling of an idea how it feels to look at in the mirror and see a person, when everyone else around you sees something that can be bought? There is a tattoo on my neck that says zoloto vezuchiy. I don’t even know what that means, but it’s all they ever called me. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your name taken away from you?”  
“Harry, I—”   
“How do you know what it’s like to lose everything, Louis, how do you know? How do you know what it feels like to be scared of everything because you don’t know who’s going to gain your trust just to hurt you? Do you know what it feels like? I’m alone, Louis. I’m tired, and I’m alone, and I have nothing left to live for anymore, and I just want it to end.” He cried.  
“Harry,” Louis said softly, “Harry,” he repeated when he didn’t receive a reply, “Harry, look at me. I know what you’re feeling,” Louis said. He gently pulled away the blankets a final time, Harry relenting. Harry furiously wiped away tears from his cheeks, “I know what some of that feels like. I have no idea what you went through, but I know what it’s like to lose your family. I lost my dad when I was fourteen, and I lost my brother when I was your age. The one I told you about? He played piano like you do.” Louis told Harry. “The day Dalton died, you know what I wanted to do?”  
“What?” Harry asked dully, sniffing.  
“When I found out he was dead, I was in my car with my sister.” Louis continued, “It took everything I had not to just jump out of the car while it was still moving and pray to God that I died.” Louis admitted, “You know why I didn’t?” Harry shook his head, “One, I’m too much of a coward, but the other reason was that I could have stopped it. I could’ve been the one who had died, instead of him.”  
“How?” Harry asked.  
He sat up a little bit and listened as Louis continued.  
“I realized the only things I had to live for were my sisters and revenge.”  
“Oh.” Harry replied.  
“So if you have nothing to live for, you have revenge, and you have me.”  
“You?” Harry said skeptically.  
“Yes, me.”  
It was quiet then. Harry hadn’t considered Louis as someone who cared about him in the slightest, but when he thought about it, right now Louis was the only person who cared now. Louis was clearly doing everything he could for Harry, which confused Harry, since no one had done a thing for him without expecting something in return.   
He sighed. Eventually he’d find out what Louis wanted, and he was pretty confident that it would be what Jack and all of the others had expected of him.   
“What do you want?” Harry asked weakly. He needed Louis to spell it out for him, just so he would know. He had nothing without Louis, and now he realized what having Louis was going to cost him.  
“For you to be okay,” Louis answered softly.  
“No,” Harry whined, “What do you want from me?”  
“What are you talking about?” Louis asked, looking genuinely confused.  
He readjusted where he was sitting beside Harry.  
“I’ve been living in this fantasy for the last few days,” Harry replied, “And all I have left is what you’re giving me.” He said bleakly. “I barely give you anything.”  
“I’m not following,” Louis admitted.  
“Well, I don’t have anything to give you but me,” he said.   
He didn’t want to outright say it to Louis. He wanted to keep what little dignity he had left.  
Louis looked confusedly at Harry as the boy picked up Baby Ben. After a moment, it seemed to click for Louis, his eyes widening.  
“Harry, no!” He exclaimed. Harry flinched at Louis’ raised voice. “I’m not like Jack. I told you I’m not like Jack.” Louis insisted. “I don’t want anything from you, Harry. I don’t want you to do a thing you don’t want to do. I don’t want material items, I don’t want money, I don’t want your innocence—God, I don’t want sex after what you’ve been through, Harry—I just want you to be okay.” Harry didn’t reply and looked absolutely miserable. He hugged Baby Ben closer, who squirmed slightly. “I promise, Harry, I don’t want that at all.”  
“What are you getting out of it?” Harry asked weakly, “You’re being nice to me for a reason.”  
He just didn’t understand what Louis was saying. If he didn’t want Harry for his body, what did he want from Harry at all? Everyone wanted something.   
“Helping you doesn’t do anything for me but help my work, Harry, I’m doing my job, I just care a little bit more about each of the people that I help than the rest of my team.” Louis said. Harry knew Louis was trying his hardest to explain this to Harry. At this point, he was starting to believe that Louis wasn’t after something from him. He still didn’t understand what Louis was after, though. He had mentioned revenge, which scared him a little. “What’s worrying you?” Louis asked.  
“What happened to your brother?” Harry wondered quietly.  
“It’s not such a happy story,” Louis replied, “but if you really want to know, I’ll tell you. It’s not a secret or anything.”  
“I’d like to know, if you don’t mind.” Harry murmured.  
Louis readjusted on the bed to properly face Harry, who sat up to listen. He held Baby Ben in his lap and watched Louis intently.  
“I was about your age, maybe a little bit older, when it happened.” He began. “I had been with him at a bar, since he had just turned eighteen, and we were celebrating. I can vaguely remember him going home with someone that night with someone I had been talking to a bit. I didn’t question it, since Dalton would occasionally decide to do that, and I had assumed this was one of those times. The next morning, he hadn’t come home—we shared an apartment in London, where we were both starting our studies—so I was, naturally, worried. I had heard stories about how people would go home with someone and never come back, but I never thought it would happen to someone close to me. You never think it’ll happen to you until it does.” Louis paused.  
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, knowing that feeling all too well. He didn’t like hearing about it, and he certainly didn’t like the memories that Louis’ story was bringing back, but he needed to know why Louis was so desperate for revenge on Jack.  
“We filed a missing persons report, and we waited, hearing nothing back for days. Every day that passed, I got more and more worried about what could have been happening to him. We never did find out the details, but I’m sure you can imagine—not that you would want to—what happened to him before he was found.” Harry cringed. “Someone called into the tip line, and said that they had initially hired Dalton from Jack—this was months after he went missing—and after they had, you know, Dalton fell asleep and, and he didn’t wake up after, so they called us after they called an ambulance.” Louis said weakly. “They hadn’t technically done anything against the law, so they were let go, but all we had to go on was Jack’s name, and the place he worked out of—that house.”  
“You said you wanted revenge on Jack,” Harry remembered.  
“I want to kill him for what he did to my brother,” Louis said coldly, before sighing, “but I’d much rather use him to help as many people as possible before I do that.” Louis explained. “I keep buying Jack’s victims, and my team can keep trying to figure out who supplies them to him. He had found Dalton himself, but when we found out he was working with a group, we realized it was much bigger than my brother.”  
Louis looked expectantly at Harry, who subconsciously rubbed the back of his neck.  
“I can’t tell you much about them,” Harry admitted.  
“I know, it’s alright.” Louis nodded, “No one has been able to, so I don’t expect you to, either.” He said gently, “And I don’t want you to worry about that right now, as it is.” Harry frowned, Louis’ statement was a harsh reminder of his day, and images of his burned house flooded his mind. Every childhood memory, every Christmas, every birthday had been spent there with his family. His family—now dead, burned alive in their own home. He wondered if the cat had made it out. Maci was a smart cat, but if she was tuck inside, she had no hope of surviving. She probably hadn’t. Harry hadn’t even thought about the survival of his cat until now. He was too caught up in his mother and sister. He missed them more than anything in the world. He hugged Baby Ben even closer to his chest, grateful that his had the comfort of a pet, even if it wasn’t his. Baby Ben mewled and pawed at Harry, who kissed the kitten on the head and let it go. The cat settled in Harry’s lap. “Do you want to go to bed?” Louis asked, breaking Harry from his thoughts.  
“Yeah,” Harry shrugged, “I guess so.”  
Louis hesitated. “Can I,” he paused, “Can I see that tattoo, first?” He asked.  
“It’s on the back of my neck.”  
Harry sat up properly and faced away from Louis. Baby Ben wandered to the end of the bed and curled up, watching Harry and Louis. Harry pulled his hair away from his neck so Louis could see the ink, and he felt Louis’ finger brush across the tattoo.  
“What did you say it says?” Louis asked.  
“Zoloto vezuchiy.” Harry replied. “I don’t know what it means.”  
Harry turned around to face Louis.  
“Vezuchiy means lucky.” Louis answered, “But I’ve never seen the other word before.”  
“How do you know?” Harry wondered as he snuggled under the blankets so that he was facing Louis’ bed.  
Louis climbed into his own bed. He pulled the covers up around himself and faced Harry.  
“All of you have it.” Louis replied, grimacing.  
“Oh.”  
If all of them that, then Harry’s identity had been stripped even further from him than he had thought. That didn’t sit well with him.  
“We’ll get through this, Harry,” Louis said. “You’ll be okay in the end.”  
“I’m not okay,” Harry mumbled sullenly.  
“Well, if it’s not okay, then it’s not the end, is it?” Louis replied.  
“I suppose not.” Harry said.  
Louis switched off the lights, sending the room into darkness, save for the tiny bit of light from the crack under the door to the hallway.  
“Goodnight, Harry.” Louis said softly.  
“Goodnight, Louis.”


	4. Jack

Louis spent the following day with Liam and Harry, making sure the two of them were entertained, since he refused to let them leave the office. Once Jess left with Tom, Liam was left with Louis and Harry. Louis introduced the two and brought them to his office. They bonded quickly in one of the empty conference rooms while Louis worked. He sat on his laptop in the corner of the conference room trying to translate Harry’s tattoo. It was in strange font, like the others’, and Louis wasn’t familiar with Russian lettering, so he was struggling to figure out which letter was which, and type it into a translator. Liam and the others didn’t have a second word, only Harry, which raised even more questions in Louis’ mind. He listened to the boys as they talked about their tattoos, and about their favourite movies, and other casual things, while he tried to decipher the lettering.  
“What’s that one?” Liam asked, pointing to the bandage on Harry’s wrist.  
Louis hesitated from his place in the corner and looked up. He doubted Harry would be comfortable talking about how he had come to have a bandaged wrist.  
“The anchor or the bandage?” Harry wondered.  
“The anchor.”  
Louis relaxed and returned to his work.  
“I got it just before I started school. It’s supposed to remind me of my family. Where I came from, you know?” Harry replied. He ran his thumb over the tattoo, the base of it buried under the gauze. “What about that one?”  
Liam laughed, “I don’t actually remember. I was drunk when I got it.” He admitted of the four large arrows on his forearm.   
Louis returned his attention to his work and bit his lip. He couldn’t quite make out one of the letters. After he had worked on that particular letter for a solid half hour, and Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa, he decided to phone a friend regarding the letter. He stood up.  
“I’ll be right back,” he said to Liam, and walked into the next room, where Calum was seated at a computer. He had headphones in and didn’t notice as Louis came up behind him, tapping his shoulder. Calum jumped and ripped his headphones off as he turned to Louis. He frowned.  
“Jesus, Lou, don’t do that.”  
“Sorry,” Louis said absently. He held up his computer to show Calum the image of Harry’s tattoo. “What’s that third letter?” He asked. “I think it’s the one that looks like pi, but I can’t tell ‘cause it might be two letters.” He shrugged. “I thought I’d ask, ‘cause you know a little Russian, right?”  
Calum raised his eyebrows and looked at the picture. “I can order a vodka and call a taxi, I’m not much help.” He replied, “But I think you’re right.”  
“Alright, cool.”  
Louis closed his laptop and took a seat beside Calum, on the desk.  
“That Harry’s tattoo?” Calum asked.  
“Yeah.”  
“Any theories on why it’s different?”  
“Nope.”  
“What makes Harry different from the others?” Calum asked. “Anything stand out to you?”  
“Not really. I mean, he has long hair, but does that warrant a special tattoo? Eleanor has long hair, too.”  
“Is it a personality thing, maybe?” Calum wondered.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I don’t know. If he doesn’t stand out physically, maybe it’s the way he acts?” He explained, “Anyways, I was working on some tech I think you might like,” he said, opening a drawer and pulling out a small box, “This is a camera—”  
“Calum, I said—”  
“Hear me out.” Calum said.   
He opened the box and took out a pen.  
“We’re not bringing cameras.” Louis said sternly.  
“I said hear me out.” Calum retorted. “This pen has a camera in the top bit here,” he pointed to the clicking mechanism, “And there’s a microphone in it. It’s completely undetectable, and before you whine about it,” Calum said before Louis could interrupt, “All you’d have to do is leave the pen there when you go.”  
Louis sighed and took the pen. If he got caught with a camera, he’d lose any hope of ever going back. It would probably put a target on his back, as well.  
“Completely undetectable?” He asked.  
“Can you see a camera in there?” Calum asked.  
“Well, no, but—”  
“Then try it. It transmits directly to our server, so we can hear, and hopefully see everything that goes on there, yeah?”  
“This could end all of our contact with them if it goes bad, Calum.”  
“It won’t. I can promise you it won’t go wrong.”  
Louis shook his head, “I can’t risk anything turning sour with them if there are lives on the line. It’s so dicey, I can’t see it not going wrong.”  
Calum took the pen and put it back in the box.  
“No one would ever notice that it wasn’t a regular pen, not even you. You said yourself that you can’t tell there’s a camera in it. Just think about it.”  
Louis sighed.  
“I want to.” He admitted, “It would help so much.”  
“Then just do it. You don’t even have to leave it there the first time. You can just keep it in your pocket and we can get a visual of the place, and start there, how does that sound?”  
That did seem reasonable to Louis, who nodded.   
A knock sounded at the door and Louis looked up to see Tom standing in the doorway with a very tired looking blonde. Louis jumped up.  
“What the hell,” he snapped at Tom, “You found him?”  
“’Ello to you, too,” Tom rolled his eyes.  
Louis ignored him and focused on the blonde. He looked the boy over, not seeing anything visibly wrong, then pulled him into a hug.  
“You’re okay,” he breathed, “Thank God, you’re okay.”  
“Niall here was asleep the entire ride,” Tom explained, “So ‘e’s a little out of it.”  
“’M fine,” Niall objected weakly, from within Louis’ embrace.  
Louis pushed the boy back and looked him over again.  
“You sure?” He demanded.  
“Yeah,” Niall nodded, “All good here. What about you?”  
Louis shook his head, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” He said, “How was the ride? Have you eaten? Have you talked to the detective yet?”  
“Louis, ‘m fine, really. I talked to everybody, I ate; it’s all good.”  
Louis visibly relaxed when he was sure Niall was okay, but then he frowned and flicked the boy’s shoulder sharply.  
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again. I thought you were dead.” He said angrily.  
Niall sulked, “Sorry.”  
“Don’t be sorry,” Louis said, “It’s not your fault, but please just don’t disappear like that again.”  
Niall nodded, “Sorry,” he repeated.  
Louis turned to Tom.  
“And you,” He snapped, “You could tell me that you found him, yeah?” He huffed, “I’ve been worried sick about everyone but Harry and Liam, and you don’t even bother to tell me that Niall’s okay?”  
“I didn’t know, either, it was Calum who got the call.” Tom said, pointing behind Louis to a sheepish looking Calum.  
“It must’ve slipped my mind,” Calum said hurriedly, “I swear I thought I told you.”  
Louis hummed suspiciously, “Fine, but if you find out anything else on the others, I want to be the first to know, and I want you to tell me three times just to be sure you don’t forget.”  
Calum nodded.  
“Didn’t realize you missed me that much,” Niall spoke.   
He poked Louis’ shoulder, and Louis turned to face the blonde again.  
“It’s hard not to miss someone like you,” Louis replied. “Wanna come meet Liam and Harry? Well, Liam, I guess, since Harry fell asleep.”

Harry rolled over in bed, the thin blankets pulled up over his head. It was the first night Harry had spent in a bed in ages, and he had slept like a baby. He woke to a hand on his shoulder, startling him awake. He sat up to face the man attached to the hand. He wore a suit, slightly wrinkled, and didn’t have the beard he had been sporting the night before. Harry still didn’t know his name.  
“Morning,” he said gruffly to Harry. “Get up.”  
Harry obeyed quickly, and dressed himself in his clothing that he had arrived in. The shirt barely covered the bruises on his arms, and he frowned. Jack wouldn’t be happy.  
“I’ll just—”  
“He’s waiting downstairs for you,” the man said.   
“Jack?” Harry whispered.  
“That’s his name, yes. He’s here.”  
Harry whimpered, “Okay,” he said weakly.  
“Well, go on,” the man said, gesturing to the door, “I’ve got places to be, so bugger off.”  
Harry nodded and quickly left the hotel room. He took the stairs, rushing down the flights as fast as he could. Jack was seated in the lobby, looking at his watch. He looked up when Harry stopped in front of him, and assessed the boy.   
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, I’m sorry.”  
Jack ignored Harry’s rushed apologies and frowned.  
“What’s that on your arm?” Jack demanded.  
He grabbed Harry’s wrist and shoved the shirt sleeve up several inches to reveal the bruises.  
“He was rough,” Harry explained feebly, “I told him you wouldn’t like it.”  
“Damn right I don’t,” Jack growled. He started to drag Harry from the hotel and into the car waiting outside. Harry climbed into the backseat, and Jack locked the car, locking Harry into it, before returning into the building. Harry wondered where he was going, but two minutes later Jack returned and climbed into the driver’s seat with a wad of cash in his hand. He shoved it into the glove box and glared at Harry through the rear view mirror. Jack started the car and pulled away quickly, not speaking. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, making Harry cringe. Jack was furious.  
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, breaking the silence.  
“Sorry doesn’t magically make the bruises go away, does it?” Jack snapped, “Can’t do anything with you if you’re damaged, now can I? It’ll be at least a week before that bruise is gone, doll. You know how much money you’re keeping me from?”  
“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, “I told him not to, but he didn’t listen, sir, I promise.”  
“Doesn’t matter, doll, you’re no good anymore. No one hires a boy that’s broken, do they?” Jack said coldly.  
Harry whimpered. He didn’t want to keep doing this, but he doubted he would prefer whatever Jack would do, now that he couldn’t take jobs.  
“Please, sir, I’m sure someone would still pay—”  
“I’ll have to call Louis, now.” Jack interrupted, “It’s too expensive to keep you around if you can’t make me money.” Jack shrugged. “He’s the only one I know that’ll take you.”  
Harry’s eyes widened. That was unsettling to Harry.  
“Please,” he whimpered, “don’t let him kill me.”  
Jack stopped at a red light and turned to Harry.  
“I’m not having him kill you, you dunce, I’m gonna try to sell you to him. He always takes you damaged ones.” Harry swallowed. “Not sure what he does with them, though,” Jack mused, a cold smirk growing on his face, “I haven’t seen a single one since he bought ‘em.” He let out a harsh laugh, “Now that I think about it, it makes me wonder if they’re actually dead.”  
Harry gasped, “I can hide the bruises,” he said quickly, “I can still make you money, sir; you don’t have to get rid of me.”  
“It’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it? You can’t just paint over it, doll.” Harry whimpered from the backseat. “Don’t be scared, I’m sure he’s just as nice as I am. But if he doesn’t take you, we’re going to have a problem. Not that he wouldn’t take you, you’re gold.”  
That didn’t put Harry at ease in the slightest, and he pulled his knees up to his chest for comfort. He looked tiny in the backseat, scared out of his wits. Jack just drove, paying no attention to Harry in the back seat.  
“Please don’t,” Harry whimpered, but Jack ignored him.  
The car stopped in the garage, and Harry was brought down to the basement of the building. He had never properly seen the building, only the basement where Jack kept him. Jack cuffed his wrists to a hook in the wall, tighter than before, claiming, “You’ve already got a bruise; it doesn’t matter if it gets worse, does it?” Before locking Harry into the room. Harry could hear Jack on the phone, catching little tidbits of what was being said. “Well, he’s no good now.” Jack said loudly, “You’re not fussy, so just come by and take a look at him, would you?” Harry sniffed, trying to hear more, “Tonight is perfect. The sooner the better.” Harry heard a door slam. “I don’t give a shit, I can’t replace him ‘til you get him out of here.” Replace him. Harry didn’t like that. “You’ve never turned me down before, why would I think you’d start now? Just get here.”  
It was silent then, and Harry cried. Jack made this mysterious Louis sound like a monster. Harry could only imagine what Louis might do to him. It scared him that Jack had never heard from anyone that Louis had taken. Was Jack right? Were they all dead? He didn’t want to find out. The tears fell onto his shirt, and he prayed to whatever divine being he hoped was listening that he wouldn’t have to go with Louis. He hoped that Louis decided not to come, that something would happen that would keep him away from Harry. His prayers weren’t answered. He was starting to dose off again a little later, his eyes closed, when Louis entered the room and kneeled in front of Harry. Harry kept his eyes shut, hoping Louis would go away.  
“Harry,” he said softly, “Harry wake up.”  
“Please, no,” Harry cried softly and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “Please don’t take me.”  
“Harry, wake up,” Louis repeated.  
Harry felt a hand running through his hair, and he tried to move away from it. Louis was going to kill him, and he was powerless to stop it from happening. He didn’t want to go with Louis. It terrified him, and he pressed himself against the wall. “No, no, no,” he whimpered, “please,” he begged.   
“Harry, you need to wake up,” Louis demanded, “Please, come on. Just open your eyes for me.” Harry opened one eye, slightly, revealing Louis who was kneeling beside him, frowning. He quickly squeezed the eye closed again. “No, keep them open,” Louis said tiredly, “You were dreaming, Harry, whatever it was, was just a dream.” Harry shook his head and buried it in the sofa. The sofa. Harry had been on the floor when Jack left him, not on a sofa. He opened his eyes again, slowly tilting his head towards Louis again. Louis quirked his lips up in a smile when he realized Harry was looking at him. “That’s it,” he said, “You’re alright.” Harry looked around at the room he was in—an empty conference room. Louis had brought him here. Louis, who didn’t want him dead at all, who had saved him from Jack. Harry sighed, relieved.   
“Sorry,” he said.  
“Don’t be sorry, you can’t control your dreams.” Louis replied. “I wanted to let you know that Tom’s about to drive back to the house, if you want to go. I know Liam and Niall—who you haven’t met yet—are going back with him, and I thought you might want your own room to sleep in again.”  
Harry sat up.  
“Are you going?” He asked.  
“I’m going to stay here until I get a bit more work sorted, so I’ll either go back later tonight or tomorrow.” Louis explained.   
Louis watched Harry intently, making Harry nervous.  
“I’ll go with Tom,” Harry replied slowly. “Unless you want me to stay?”  
Louis shook his head.  
“Whatever you want is fine,” he said, “He’ll take you to the hotel room to get your things when all three of you are ready to go.”  
“Okay.”  
Louis sighed, frowning.  
“You had another nightmare.” He stated.  
“Yeah?”  
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Louis asked.  
“No.”  
“Alright, well, if you want to, you can always come to me,” Louis said. He stood up and Harry followed, the two of them leaving the room quietly. Louis brought Harry to Tom, who was standing with Liam and another boy. “This is Niall,” Louis said, “Niall, this is Harry. He’s been staying with me the last few days.”   
Niall held out his hand for Harry to shake. He was shorter than Harry by several inches, and was wearing a patterned button down shirt. He smiled up at Harry, who nodded in return, but stayed quiet.   
“Nice to meet you, Harry.” Niall said, his accent audible from the short phrase.  
Irish, Harry noted. He wondered what Louis’ connection to Niall was. He had heard about Liam the day before, from everyone talking about him in the conference room, but he didn’t remember hearing Niall’s name.   
“Shall we go?” Tom asked, “It’s a long drive from ‘ere.”  
The others nodded, and Louis smiled softly.  
“I should be back tonight,” he said.  
“I think we can manage a few ‘ours without you, Louis, don’t worry.” Tom replied.  
Louis shrugged, “Have a safe drive.”

Louis watched the four of them leave the room and enter the elevator. He wondered if sending them away from all of the security was a good idea, but figured that a safe house was a safe house for a reason. Eleanor and Perrie were being taken directly there as it were, so it would be good that they were all in the same place.  
He moved back into Calum’s office, sharing the picture of Harry’s tattoo and the lettering.  
“This is what I got. Maybe you can find something out?” He asked.  
Calum looked up.  
“Sure.”   
Louis took a seat on the desk again, setting his closed laptop beside him.   
“Harry had another nightmare, and I have no idea how to stop it.” Louis sighed.  
“You can’t,” Calum said, “That’s one of those things that only heals with time.”  
Louis frowned.  
“I don’t want it to take time.” He said sourly.  
“No one does.” Calum replied, “What about the others? How are they?”  
“Niall is surprisingly okay,” Louis shrugged, “Liam is taking it pretty hard, but he’s hiding it pretty well. Jess is worrying about him, though.”  
“Jess has always worried about him.” Calum smirked.  
“Did he tell her why he was limping?”  
“I think he said he fell over while on a run, but she doesn’t believe him.”  
Louis rolled his eyes, “I don’t either.”  
“And Niall? Has he said anything about what happened?”  
“Not to me.” Louis replied.  
Calum leaned back in his chair.  
“I haven’t heard from him either. He’s quiet.”  
“Who got the calls about Eleanor and Perrie?” Louis asked.  
“Watson. All he knows is that they’re okay.”  
Louis hummed, his eyebrows furrowed.  
“Nothing on why the families are dead?” He wondered.  
“Nothing.” Calum replied, frustrated, “It’s like a ghost did it. No evidence, no trail, no signature, no nothing. The only reason the authorities think it’s planned is the connection between the victims. There’s no proof at all other than that.”  
“And you agree?”  
“I don’t have a choice.” Calum admitted, “I’ve spent hours going over the scenes, and I don’t see a thing. Whoever it is, they’re cleaning up after themselves.”   
“What about the shoe-thing Harry found?”  
“As far as Michael and I can tell, it’s just a print from a pair of shoes. It’s the only one, and it’s not exactly going to narrow our list of suspects down by much to find everyone who has a pair of those particular sneakers.”  
Louis swore.  
“I just want something I can run with. Anything.”  
“The pen—”  
“Is a great idea in theory,” Louis interrupted, “I’m still considering it, but I don’t like it.”  
“I know you don’t.”  
Louis’ burner phone rang, and both Calum and Louis looked down at his pocket. Louis pulled it out.  
“It’s Jack.”  
“I know it is,” Calum said, now typing on his computer, “Pick up.” He ordered.  
Calum opened a program on his computer as Louis accepted the call.  
“Jack.” He said, the phone on speaker.  
“I have another for you.”  
Calum’s eyes bulged.  
“It’s been less than a week,” Louis said suspiciously.  
Jack usually called after a month or so, rarely so soon after a buy, and Louis couldn’t imagine what the problem could be that would make Jack not want one of his victims straight off the bat.  
“Yeah, well I got this one in today, and I can’t keep him, so you need to come get him off my hands.”  
“What’s wrong with him?” Louis asked, frowning.  
“Can you come now?”  
“I said what’s wrong with him,” Louis said harshly.  
Jack huffed on the other end of the line.  
“He’s just not marketable to my demographic, okay?” Louis scoffed, “Just come by. You can have him for six hundred, that’s barely more than what I paid.” Jack offered.  
Louis snapped his fingers at Calum and mouthed instructions to him. Calum rushed out of the room.  
“I’ve got a busy schedule, Jack, I can’t just drop what I’m doing for you.” Louis lied.  
“Could you make an exception?” Jack asked, “I need him gone.”   
“I’ll be there in an hour. I want him dressed and ready to go. I’m not in the mood to smuggle him out butt-naked again, nor do I have the time to wait around.” Louis replied, “And I don’t want your goons there, either.”  
It was quiet for a moment before Jack replied.  
“Fine.”  
“Where’s he from? Your usual supplier?” Louis asked, crossing his fingers that Jack would give him something.  
“Obviously. They only have the best, but I can’t work with this.”  
“What’s his name?”  
“Luke Hemmings. Scrawny little thing.” Jack replied.  
“How old is he?”  
“I don’t know. The youngest I’ve had.”  
Louis frowned, wondering how old Luke actually was.  
He sighed, “If you need him off your hands that badly, I want him for five hundred.”  
It was silent again.  
“Fine. Just get here.”  
The line went dead and Louis raced out of the room, nearly running into Calum who was turning the corner.  
“I’ve got your coat,” he said, shoving it at Louis, “And the pen,” he pushed that into Louis’ hand as well, “And Jess left a few minutes ago to get Eleanor and Perrie, so I’m driving.”  
Louis nodded and the two of them left quickly. Calum had called the car to the front of the building, so the two of them were driving in less than two minutes. Calum had also notified the team of where they were going, and Louis was now receiving dozens of texts from them, asking about details that he just didn’t have. The ride was silent aside from Louis giving instructions on where to go to Calum. When they pulled up outside of the house, Calum turned to Louis.  
Louis spoke first, “His name is Luke Hemmings, and he’s been with Jack for less than a day. He’s really different from the others from that alone.” He said.  
“We’ll figure it out. Just go get him, and remember to keep the pen in your coat pocket.” Calum replied, tucking the pen into the breast pocket of Louis’ coat as Louis opened the car door.  
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. If I’m not back in twenty, do something.”  
“I’ll knock and ask if he wants to discuss our lord and savior Jesus Christ,” Calum joked before his expression turned serious, “Get going, and be careful.”  
Louis nodded and exited the car. He walked up to the front door and knocked twice. Seconds later, Jack opened the door.  
“Where is he?” Louis asked.  
“Kitchen. Come on, I want him gone.”  
Louis frowned but nodded, following Jack. They entered the kitchen and Louis froze in the doorway. Sitting at the table was a small boy, hands splayed out on the table. He looked miserable, his blonde hair in his eyes, and his head bowed. Louis tried to gather himself, walking further into the kitchen.  
“Why’s he sitting like that?” He asked Jack, avoiding asking about his age.  
“I didn’t want to tie him up, so I told him if he moved he’d be in trouble.”  
“What?” Louis asked, “Is that too immoral for you? Tying up a kid?” He rolled his eyes.  
“Just sign the damn paperwork and get him out of here.” Jack snapped, “Every minute he’s here is no good.”  
Louis understood. Luke couldn’t be eighteen, and it was one thing to claim being a pimp, and another to be selling children. He didn’t voice that, and instead walked to the stack of paperwork in front of the boy.  
“Bit of a coward, aren’t you?” Louis said conversationally to Jack, “He’s just a kid, can’t cause much trouble.”  
Jack stiffened.  
“I’m not a coward, I just don’t want him.”  
“Next time I want a day’s warning.” Louis said, intentionally ignoring Jack’s statement.  
“Next time won’t be for a while.” Jack huffed.  
“How old are you?” Louis asked Luke.  
“Fourteen, sir,” Luke said quietly, still staring at the table.   
Jack growled.  
“Now, you’re supposed to tell me you’re eighteen so that Jack here doesn’t pop his head off.” Louis said, a small smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Luke.  
Luke looked up, eyes wide, he looked at Jack and then back at Louis. Fear was evident on his face as he looked at Jack again, obviously scared of Jack’s reaction.  
“See? That’s the problem.” Jack said. “He doesn’t think before he speaks.”  
“The problem is you can’t handle having a kid on your hands.”  
“Whatever, I can’t have him here.”  
“I’m sorry, sir.” Luke said quickly.  
“No, you’re just stupid.” Jack snapped, making Luke flinch and look back down at the table.  
Louis took the pen from his pocket and quickly signed the documents before handing them to Jack. He hesitated for a moment but left the pen on the counter. If minors were involved, Louis was willing to take the risk to get more information.  
“Not a problem for me.” He said, standing. “I don’t care if he’s a kid.”  
“Good.”  
“As always, fax it to me?” Louis asked Jack.  
“Of course.”  
Louis turned to Luke.  
“Alright, up you come.” He said to the boy.   
Luke looked up.  
“What?” He said quietly.  
“Manners.” Jack barked.  
Luke flinched.  
“I said to get up,” Louis said as gently as he could without showing any sign of sympathy, “You’re coming with me.”  
Luke’s eyes widened and he panicked, shoving back from the table and backing away from the two men. He walked backwards into the living room.  
“I—I can’t go,” he whimpered.  
“Don’t be rash.” Jack said, rolling his eyes.  
Louis spoke up, “Let me deal with him.” He said shortly.  
“Whatever you want.”  
Louis walked slowly towards Luke, who backed up further before turning to run. Louis caught his arm and Luke screamed.   
“Calm down,” Louis said.  
Luke tried to pull his wrist from Louis’ firm grip, but Louis didn’t budge.  
“Let me go! Beck! Get off of me, please!” Luke cried, “Don’t touch me; let me go!”  
Louis kept his composure and caught Luke’s other arm. Luke screamed louder, begging Louis to leave him be.  
“Luke, calm down,” he said sternly.  
“No! Let me go!” Luke repeated. “Please, James! Beck! Let me go!”  
Louis sighed and lifted Luke’s hands up spinning the boy around. He crossed the blonde’s arms over his chest, and pulled him flush against his own chest, immobilizing the boy.  
“I’m not letting go until you calm down.” Louis told the boy. He waited several minutes for Luke’s struggling to slow to a stop. Luke didn’t fight Louis, only crying. “Are you done now?” Louis asked.  
“Yes,” Luke said weakly.  
“If I let you go, will you do as I say?”  
“Yes.”  
Louis nodded and slowly let the boy go. Luke immediately tried to run again, towards the basement. He wrenched the door open before Louis caught him, slamming the door shit.  
“No,” Louis said harshly, pinning the boy back in the same position, “You’re going to do as I say, understood?” Luke sobbed, not replying. “I don’t tolerate lying.”  
“Please let me go! I’m sorry,” Luke cried.   
“I know you are.” Louis replied. “Now, you’re going to come with me, and you’re not going to cause any more trouble. Understood?” Luke didn’t answer. “Understood?” Louis said more forcefully.  
“Yes, sir.”   
Louis frowned at the title.  
“Good. I’m going to let you go now, and you’re not going to try and run again. I’ll let this one slide, but I won’t be happy if it happens again.”  
Luke obeyed, and followed Louis and Jack to the door. Louis wanted so desperately to break character in front of Jack, but he knew better. He hated how he had to talk to Luke, and he hated how he had to hold Luke’s arm so tightly it would probably leave a bruise. He hated that Luke was so scared of him, and he hated how he couldn’t yet tell Luke that he didn’t mean any harm. Jack didn’t know that, though, so he did as he knew he should, and pulled Luke out of the house, a few documents in his free hand.  
“Thank you for coming by so quickly,” Jack grumbled.  
Louis nodded once and the door closed, Louis and Luke outside in the cold. He walked Luke to the car, and opened the door for him. Luke gave escape one more try, attempting and failing to pull himself free from Louis’ hold on his arm. Louis groaned, breaking character. He tossed the papers in the backseat and looked at the struggling boy.  
“Luke,” he said, “Luke, look at me, dammit!”  
Luke ignored Louis, and Louis huffed, catching Luke’s free hand in his own. Calum opened his door and climbed out.  
“We all good here?” He asked.  
Louis glared at Calum, who was watching, concerned, as Luke tried to pull his arm from Louis’ grip.   
He repeated, “Let me go,” like a mantra, the tears rolling down his face. He was so small in comparison to Louis, and significantly feebler. Louis didn’t struggle to keep the boy in his grasp.  
“Just peachy, Cal, just peachy.” He said sarcastically. He looked down at Luke. “Luke,” he tried again. Luke didn’t listen, “Luke Hemmings look at me and listen.” He snapped loudly. “This is important.”  
Calum laughed, “You sound like a parent.”  
Luke looked up, startled. He froze for a moment, and Louis took the opportunity to take the boy by both wrists, kneeling in front of him. The snow soaked into Louis’ jeans, and he shivered. Luke looked down at Louis, no longer struggling, confusion written across his tear-stained face.  
“Luke, stop fighting and listen to me, I’m not going to hurt you.”  
“He’s telling the truth.” Calum added, leaning on the roof of the car.  
Luke stood stock still and waited for Louis to elaborate.  
“I’m with the police,” Louis explained quietly. “I’m going to keep you safe from anyone like Jack.”  
Calum walked around to stand beside Louis, and Luke watched him warily. He held out a badge for Luke to look at.  
“See? Certified do-gooder.” Calum smiled, “This one’s mine,” he explained, “Louis doesn’t have his, he left it ‘cause we were in a hurry.”  
“You’re cops?” Luke asked.  
“Well, he is,” Calum said, gesturing to Louis, who nodded, “I’m technically just the techie and the chauffer, but I get a badge too.”  
“Will you get in the car now?” Louis asked Luke, letting his hands go.  
Luke frowned but nodded slowly.   
“Lovely, because it’s damn cold out here, and I wanna get home.” Calum said.  
He walked back around and climbed into the driver’s seat. Luke and Louis sat in the back. Louis watched Luke, who still looked quite scared as the car pulled away from Jack’s house. Louis brushed at his knees, attempting to dry the wet patches slightly.  
“No, don’t go!” Luke said as the car started moving.  
“We have to get you away from Jack, Luke, what’s wrong?” Louis said softly.  
“You can’t go, I have to go back,” Luke cried, “I have to go back.” Louis looked in at Calum in the rear view mirror and shook his head slightly. “No, please,” Luke begged when the car didn’t stop. He tugged at the door handle, but the child lock made the effort useless. “We can’t leave, please, we can’t.” Luke cried.  
Louis didn’t know how to deal with Luke’s pleas, and opted to try distracting him.  
“Can you tell us your parents’ phone numbers so we can give them a call?” Louis asked gently.   
“My parents are dead.” He said blankly, pulling on the door handle helplessly.  
Louis’ eyes widened, “I’m sorry to hear that.” He replied, making eye contact with Calum in the rear view mirror again.  
Calum nodded in understanding—Luke’s family was probably dead at the hands of the same people who had killed the others.  
“Do you have any siblings?” Louis asked slowly.  
“Two brothers, Beck and James.” Luke replied.  
He looked incredibly distressed at the mention of his brothers.  
“Do you know where your brothers are?” Luke nodded. “Can you tell me?”  
“Jack has them, too.” Luke said weakly.


	5. Luke

Calum slammed on the breaks, sending Luke and Louis flying forwards.  
“Right now?” Louis asked, “Jack has them right now?” Luke nodded, and Calum swore. “Well,” Louis said, surprised, “that can’t happen.”  
“I’m calling the Detective, hang on.” Calum said.  
He pulled the car to the side of the road and took his phone out of his pocket, dialing quickly and putting it on speaker.   
“Detective Watson.”  
“Detective, we have Luke here with us.” Calum said, foregoing greetings.  
“Good. Is something wrong?” The Detective asked.  
“He’s telling us his brothers are with Jack, right now.”  
It was quiet for a moment.  
“Is he telling the truth?”  
“I find it difficult to believe that he’s lying.” Calum replied.  
“Are the two of you comfortable with attempting a retrieval of these brothers—how many of them did you say?”  
“Two.” Calum answered. “We’re capable, but we don’t know how to approach the situation. Jack failed to mention them.”  
“Will he be willing to be paid off?” The Detective wondered.  
“Probably. He’s only ever doing this for the money.” Louis interjected.  
“Then I suggest you call him and ask for a price.” The Detective decided. “Call back after you’ve spoken with Jack.”  
“Thank you, Detective.” Calum said.  
The line went dead.  
“Now what?” Louis asked.  
“Call him.” Calum ordered.  
“And say what?” Louis retorted.  
“That you’ll buy them? I don’t know, make something up.”  
Louis took out the burner phone from his pocket and dialed Jack’s number, gesturing for Luke to stay quiet.  
“What’s the problem?” Jack asked when he picked up.  
“Luke here is telling me that you hid two valuable assets from me.” Louis replied.  
“You didn’t ask.” Jack said.  
Louis scoffed, “Right, well I’m on my way back for the other two.”  
Calum turned the car around and began driving towards Jack’s house again.  
“They’re not for sale.” Jack said flatly.  
“I don’t care.”  
“I’m not losing money selling them to you, Louis.”  
“I’m willing to pay.” Louis tried.   
The line was quiet for a moment.  
“I get a good fifty grand from each one. You’re willing to pay that on top of the regular fee?” Jack asked skeptically.  
“Yes.”  
The line was quiet again as Calum parked outside of the house.  
“We can negotiate.” Jack sighed.  
“I’m willing to give you every penny, and I’m coming in to get them right now, so they better be ready.” Louis replied, ending the call.  
Luke looked up at Louis.   
“That’s a lot of money,” he said, wide eyed.  
“I don’t put a price on people,” Louis replied, “But I’ll pay as much as I need to if it means someone’s life can improve drastically.”  
“He doesn’t even notice the money’s gone,” Calum added.  
“That’s not the point.” Louis said sternly. “Now, you wait here, got it? Calum and I are going to get them, but you need to stay right here.”  
“But—”  
“Luke, it’s a conflict of interest,” Louis said.  
“Bullshit, it’s a conflict of interest for you to go in, Lou, don’t play that card on him.” Calum replied, “Luke, you’re what, fifteen?”  
“Fourteen.” Luke said quietly.  
“You’re way too young to be put back into a situation like that. And there’s no way in Hell that you can convince us to risk your safety.” Calum said gently, “Plus, we have to keep up the pretense that Louis and I aren’t working with the police. It’s really important that we maintain our relationship with Jack, okay? We’re going to get your brothers, but we need you to stay right here, understand?”  
“Okay.” Luke nodded.  
“We’ll be quick,” Louis promised, and he and Calum climbed out of the car.  
Luke watched as Louis and Calum walked up to the house, and Calum knocked twice.   
“Don’t talk, okay?” Louis told Calum just as Jack opened the door.  
“I’m not happy about this. My customers don’t like waiting for broken in merchandise.” Jack huffed, letting the two men in.   
“I pay you more than any of your other customers.” Louis retorted.   
He walked into the kitchen, where two nearly identical, older versions of Luke were sitting, hands zip tied behind their backs. Jack’s bodyguards were at the doorways again, most likely because Beck and James could easily over power Jack, who stood sulking in the corner.  
“It’s hard to train them, and here you are, taking two perfectly good ones before I even have a chance with them.” Jack said sourly.  
“Oh, shut it, you’re thrilled. You’re getting a fortune today all because Baby Luke was feeling sentimental.” Louis frowned. “Where’s all of the stuff I need to sign?”  
Beck and James looked up at Louis at that, confusion written across their faces.  
“Here,” Jack said as he pulled a stack of freshly printed documents from the kitchen counter.  
Louis took a moment to look over Beck and James. They were young, younger than Louis, easily, but not much older that Calum. They sat quietly where Luke was just minutes before, their hands tied behind their backs. Louis was glad that Jack had had them dressed. He hated having to see them so vulnerable. Louis turned to Calum, then pointed to one of the men—boys, really.  
“Take him—what’s your name?” Louis asked the man on the left.  
“James.”  
“Take James to the car,” Louis told Calum, pointing to the man on the left.  
Calum obeyed and left with James, who didn’t fight in the slightest. Louis quickly signed the documents. He looked Beck up and down.   
“Stand up,” he told the last of the brothers.  
Beck obeyed, and Louis took Beck by the arm. He helped to walk him to the door, no one speaking.  
“Thanks,” Jack said as Louis handed the stack of papers to him.  
“I’ll see you around,” Louis replied. The door slammed closed behind him as he and Beck walked out of the house. He brought Beck partway to the car, and stopped. Beck watched him suspiciously, but didn’t move. Louis wondered why he hadn’t tried to break free. “Are you alright?” Louis asked. Beck didn’t respond. “Beck, are you alright?” Louis asked more firmly. “I have to know you’re okay.”  
“I don’t know,” Beck replied.  
“Are you hurt?”  
“No.”  
“That’s what I needed to know.” Louis said. “Luke knows this, and Calum—he’s in the car—told James, but you need to know, too.” He began. He put his hand in his pocket and swore, before walking the two of them to the car and tapping on the glass of the car window, which rolled down. He ducked his head in and grabbed Calum’s badge before looking up again. “I work with the police.” He said, showing the badge to Beck. “This is Calum’s, though, but I’m just as much of an officer as he is.”  
“You’re a cop?”  
“I am.” Louis replied. “So I would appreciate it if you cooperated, since I have to get the three of you to somewhere safe.”  
“You came back for us.” Beck said, frowning.  
“Luke told us you were still there, and we weren’t about to leave him without his brothers.” Louis shrugged. “He’s a good kid.” He opened the door for Beck. “Hop on in.”  
Beck obliged, and Louis climbed into the passengers’ seat. Calum started the car and pulled away.  
“Any more surprises?” Calum asked Luke, who shook his head.  
Louis took a pair of scissors from the glove box and handed them to Luke.  
“Help your brothers out for me?” Louis asked.   
Luke quickly obeyed and went to hand Louis the scissors, which Louis returned to the glove box.  
“Are we calling the Detective back, now?” Calum asked.  
“I would think so.” Louis replied.  
He dialed and held the phone to his ear.  
“Watson,” the Detective answered.  
“We’ve got them here in the car. It went smoothly.”  
“What did he ask for?”  
“Just over a hundred.” Louis replied.  
“For both of them?”  
“Yes.”  
“Are they alright?” The Detective asked.  
“Physically, yes.” Louis answered.  
“Good to hear. What’s the plan, now?”  
“We’re going to Chez-Lou. I’m not comfortable with them being anywhere else right now.”  
“I agree with you on that one.” The Detective replied. “I won’t be joining you, but I’ll tell the team.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Anytime. Call me if you need anything, or if you hear anything.”  
“Will do.”  
The line went dead and it was silent for a few minutes.  
“Wanna just ask the hard questions now?” Calum asked, breaking the silence. “It’s either now, or later, and dragging it out probably won’t help.”  
Louis nodded, “He has a point. We have to go over what happened.”  
“Okay,” Luke said sadly.   
His brothers nodded in agreement. Louis started a recording on his phone, his attention on the backseat. The three brothers were crammed into the space, and   
“Alright, let’s start at the beginning and work our way forwards. Can you tell me what happened to your parents?”  
“They died in a car accident.” Luke replied.  
“When was this?”  
“Right before…” Luke trailed off.  
Louis nodded.  
“Okay, this is a good start, Luke. How long ago was that? Do you know?”  
Luke frowned. James spoke up.  
“In November. What day is it?” He asked.  
“December twenty first.” Louis replied. “Can you describe what happened to you? I know it’s not easy to talk about, and you don’t have to go into detail right now.”  
Luke shifted in his seat. “I was at home with my brothers, and we had just found out about our parents, and a man knocked on the door, and Beck answered, and the man came in and pointed a gun at us and said to do what he said.” Luke paused.  
“And you did, didn’t you?” Louis guessed. Luke nodded. “He’s the one that took you?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Do you remember how many people you were passed between before Jack?” Calum asked.  
“Just one.” Beck answered.  
“One person handled the three of you?” Louis wondered incredulously.  
“One…group, you could say.” Beck replied, “I don’t know what you would call them.”  
“This group, did they do anything to you?” Louis asked.  
“Not what you’re thinking.” James shook his head.  
“Alright, this is a good start.” Louis said.   
“Hey, before you keep going,” Calum interjected, “Are we going to the office, Chez-Lou, or the station?”  
Louis thought for a moment.   
“The office. We can drop you off and then I’ll take them to the station.”   
“I’ll come to the station, but I need my things, and you need your passport.”  
“His passport?” Beck asked from the backseat.  
“We’re taking the train to our safe house, and it’s across the border.” Calum explained.  
“Safe house?” James asked, “Is that necessary?”  
“There’s a lot more to this case than you know.” Calum replied, “It’s much safer for you to be in a safe house than in a hotel or in your own home, which I can guarantee is being monitored right now.”  
“What?” Luke breathed.  
“Calum, don’t say it like that, you’re scaring Luke.” Louis said quickly.  
He turned around in his seat to face the brothers.  
“Where’s the safe house?” James asked, his hand rubbing Luke’s back soothingly. Luke heard him mumble, “It’ll be okay, Buddy,” into Luke’s ear.  
“France.” Louis replied. “There are a fair few people there, since it’s our only safe house for this case, but it’s as good as we’re going to get.”  
“Have you got their papers?” Calum asked.  
“Yeah, we’re all set.” Louis replied. He focused his attention back on the brothers. “Sorry, but we need to get back to the questions. If we can finish them now, we don’t have to talk about them again.”  
“Go ahead,” James shrugged.  
“You said they didn’t physically abuse you. Can you tell me what they did instead?”  
Luke leaned into Beck’s side, and Beck hugged him.  
“They kept us in one room for a few weeks, I’d say,” James replied. “It was pretty unpleasant. On the second or third day they took us out one by one and forced us to get tattoos.”   
“Russian lettering?” Louis asked.  
“Yes. You know what it means?” James said, frowning.  
“We might. Is it one word?” Louis wondered.  
“Beck and I have one word, Luke has two.”  
Louis’ eyes widened.  
“Zoloto vezuchiy.” He said quietly.  
“That’s what they called Luke,” Beck said, frowning.  
“It’s what they called Harry,” Louis told Calum. “The weird word.”  
“Who’s Harry?” James asked.  
“He’s the last person that was at Jack’s.” Calum replied. “You’ll meet him at the safe house.”   
“Did they do anything besides give you the tattoo?” Louis asked.  
Beck shook his head.  
“Nothing.”  
“Alright, I think that’s all we need to know for now.” Louis replied, turning off the recording on his phone.   
It was starting to get dark outside, and Luke yawned.   
“You can sleep,” Beck told his little brother. He looked to Louis for approval, and Louis nodded.  
“It’s still a fair ways to the office, go ahead.” Calum said.

Louis was glad to hear that Harry had fallen asleep on the train, and again in the car, and again in his bed as soon as everyone arrived at Chez-Lou. Tom said Liam and Niall had been kind to the sleepy boy, helping him up to his room before claiming the far room on the second floor, which left the next room for the girls, who had arrived just before Louis, and the last room of the hallway for the Hemmings’. Tom and Jess took the master suite in the guest house, as always, and Calum and Michael, who had taken the train with Louis and the others, had claimed the final room in the guest house. The house was as full as it could get. It was difficult to fit everyone in, but Louis insisted, since it was the only safe house that he trusted. He knew they’d need to find a new one quickly, especially since there were so many people now, and he made a note to look into that the following day.   
Once everyone knew where they’d be sleeping, Louis helped the Hemmings’ set up their room. Luke had fallen asleep, and Beck had carried him into the house—the boy was quite small—and no one was willing to wake him. James and Louis had set up the extra beds, setting Luke in the middle. He told the trio where the bathrooms were, and let them know that there was food in the kitchen that they were welcome to have, even though they had eaten on the train.   
It was quite late after that, so Louis wished them all a good night and went to bed. He sat up on his computer for an hour or so, looking into safe houses and Christmas gifts for his siblings, as well as for his guests, before falling asleep.  
At nearly four in the morning he was woken up again, a light knocking on his door.  
“Come in,” he called as he sat up in bed.   
He turned the light on, and the door swung open to reveal a distraught Harry. He was sniffling, and wrapped in a blanket. Louis’ confused expression softened at the sight of the boy, who looked even smaller from under the blanket.  
“Can I, can I stay with you?” He asked quietly.  
“Of course you can,” Louis said, pulling the blankets back on the empty side of the bed for Harry, “Come here,” he murmured, “What is it, love, what happened?”  
Harry closed the bedroom door behind him and climbed into bed beside Louis.  
“I had a nightmare, and Bennie left the room and I couldn’t go back to sleep,” he whimpered, “I’m sorry I woke you up.”   
“No, no, it’s fine,” Louis promised, “Do you want to talk about it?”  
Harry pulled the blankets up to his chin and faced Louis. He tried to hide his tears in the blanket, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Louis, who turned the light out and mirrored Harry. He watched Harry, and Harry watched him, quiet for a moment. It was still light enough in the room to see each other.  
“It was Jack,” Harry mumbled, “and before him.”  
He rubbed his eyes, and brushed away another stray tear. Louis wanted to hug Harry, to let him know that everything was going to be alright, but he didn’t. He knew Harry would shy away at his touch.  
“They can’t get to you ever again, love,” Louis reminded Harry gently.  
Harry shifted his head on the pillow and let out a shaky breath.  
“It was so scary.”  
“I can only imagine,” Louis said, “I’d do anything for you to be able to forget about any of this every happening.” Harry was quiet. “Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?”  
“Not really,” Harry sighed.  
“You don’t have to, but if you want to you can.” Louis replied.  
Harry nodded. He hesitated for a moment, and Louis waited patiently. He really wanted to know about Harry’s nightmares. If he could stop them, he wanted to, and knowing what they were about might help.  
“They were so scary,” Harry whispered, “and, and I didn’t want to, Louis. But they were so scary.”  
Harry fisted the blankets under his chin, and Louis’ heart broke for the boy for the umpteenth time as tears began to fall down Harry’s face. He rubbed Harry’s shoulder gently, soothingly. Harry tensed, then relaxed into Louis’ touch.  
“Harry, love, it’s over now,” Louis said softly, “You’re safe here.”   
He brushed Harry’s hair from his face, his fingers lingering to wipe away the tears before returning to his shoulder to rub his arm.  
“It feels so real,” Harry whispered, “It always feels so real.”  
“I know,” Louis replied, “I know. Try to go to sleep, now, alright? I’ll keep all of the nightmares away. You’re safe here.”  
Harry nodded and snuggled into the blankets, his eyes closing. Louis watched the boy until Harry’s worried expression slackened as he fell asleep. He stopped rubbing Harry’ arm and tucked himself into the blankets, falling asleep only minutes later.  
This time Louis wasn’t the first to wake up, and when he did, he found Harry watching him from the other side of the bed. He smiled when he saw the sleepy boy look away, knowing he had been caught.  
“Morning,” Harry said, looking back at Louis.  
“Morning,” Louis rasped, “How’d you sleep?”  
Harry shrugged.  
“Better.”  
“No nightmares?”  
Louis propped himself up on one elbow to face Harry, who mirrored Louis again.   
“No nightmares.” Harry confirmed.  
Louis smiled.  
“Good.” He glanced at the clock, reading just after nine. “I think we should go eat, don’t you?” He asked, “I’m sure everyone’s up now.”  
“Alright,” Harry replied.  
The kitchen was filled with people still in their pajamas when Harry and Louis entered. Louis immediately went to the teapot, pouring himself a cup. He watched as Harry joined Liam and Jess in conversation, Liam and Harry in matching checkered pajama pants. He decided to check on Perrie and Eleanor, since he hadn’t had the chance to talk to them yet. He found them sitting at the island, eating a stack of pancakes. Louis leaned on the countertop beside Eleanor.   
“Morning girls.”  
They looked up at Louis and smiled.  
“Hi, Louis,” Perrie said, “It’s good to see you.”  
“You as well. How are the two of you holding up?” Louis asked, jumping right into the difficult conversation. They frowned. “That good, huh?”  
“We’re hanging in there,” Eleanor sighed.  
Louis nodded solemnly.  
“Well I was thinking we could all try to get our minds off of what’s happened, and maybe put up the tree. I haven’t gotten around to it, but it looks like it’ll be one big Christmas right here, yeah? And I think my mum and sisters are coming by as well. How does that sound?”  
Louis knew it would be a difficult day for many of them, since it would be the first one without everyone having their family. He wanted to do whatever he could to make up for it, especially when he considered each of them a member of his family as it were.  
“That would be lovely,” Perrie said.  
Eleanor nodded, “You’re very kind to have us.”  
“I wouldn’t dream of not having you here,” Louis replied, and he meant it. “I should make my rounds.” He said, “Make sure everyone’s doing alright.”  
He left the girls to their pancakes and walked over to Luke and his brothers, who were at the kitchen table. Luke was sitting in the middle, his head on Beck’s shoulder. He looked content, but Beck and James didn’t. Neither of them had eaten, while Luke’s plate was empty.   
“Hello,” Luke said.  
It wasn’t a dull hello, or a happy hello. It was flat, a little timid. Louis frowned.  
“Hello, Luke, how’re you feeling today?”  
“’M alright.”  
“He’s still a bit tired,” James explained.  
“And how are you two doing?” Louis asked the older two.  
“We’ve been better,” Beck admitted, “but we’re so grateful for what you’ve done for us.”  
Louis shrugged.  
“I’m only doing my job.” He replied. “You know, I was thinking—since we’re all going to be stuck here until other arrangements can be made—maybe we could put up the Christmas tree. Christmas is only a few days away, and I think everyone could benefit from a little holiday cheer, what do you think?” Louis directed the question at all of them, but looked to Luke as he said it.   
Luke smiled, “That sounds like fun!” He replied cheerfully.  
Louis grinned, “I thought you might say that. Calum is around here somewhere, and I think the two of you should go find us a tree. How does that sound? Maybe James and Beck want to go, too?”  
Luke looked at his brothers who nodded.  
“If you wanna pick out a tree, you can,” James said.  
“Why don’t we go find Calum, yeah?” Louis said, looking at Luke.  
“Alright,” Luke replied.  
He stood up and joined Louis, who ushered him out of the room before looking back to Beck and James.  
“Luke will be in good hands with Calum, you don’t need to worry,” Louis promised, “I would trust Calum with my life.”  
“We owe you,” James replied.  
“No you don’t.” Louis said firmly. “Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”  
“Will do,” Beck nodded.  
“I’ll be around if you need anything.”  
With that, Louis left the room. Luke had found Calum, who was sitting on the couch in the living room with Michael, and Louis and found the trio talking cheerfully. Calum noticed Louis enter, first.  
“Luke said you signed me up for tree picking,” Calum said with raised eyebrows.  
“Absolutely. Since you and Michael are here for the holidays, you’re helping.” Louis explained, “In addition to that, I trust you more than anyone to take care of Luke.”  
Michael scoffed.  
“Hey, it’s entirely your fault that you don’t come with me to the gym.” Calum said, poking Michael.  
Louis laughed.  
“I was thinking you two could go do that now, while everyone else helps with baking and stuff?”  
“Alright, I need to get dressed first.” Calum looked to Luke, “Why don’t you come with me? I think I have something you can wear.”  
Luke nodded.  
“Calum, quick question.” Louis said as the dark haired boy stood from the sofa.  
“Yeah?”  
Louis gestured to whisper in his ear, and Calum moved closer.  
“Try to have fun, do some bonding, maybe teach him how to kick some ass, I don’t know, but try and distract him for a little while.”  
Calum nodded, and he and Luke left for the guest house. Louis watched them leave.  
“You’re too nice for your own good,” Michael told Louis, sipping on his coffee.  
“I just want everyone to be happy. None of them have families, for God’s sake, they deserve a little pick-me-up.” Louis said, frowning.  
He sat beside Michael.  
“I agree,” Michael replied, “What can I do to help?”   
Louis thought for a moment. He knew his family would be visiting the next day, so he needed to sort sleeping arrangements. Having six siblings usually wasn’t an issue, with the house being so big, but he now had an additional ten people, and it was going to be quite crowded. He knew he could convince the twins, and he could most likely convince Lottie and Fizzy as well, to stay in the game room, and he’d give up his room to his mother and the babies, but he didn’t know where he would go. He’d sort that out later. He realized that even after everyone was in the house, they’d have to eat, and Jess wouldn’t be able to handle it all on her own. Someone would have to help her. He looked at Michael, who was waiting patiently for instructions.  
“I honestly don’t know,” he told him, “We need to feed nearly twenty people, and I need to get the game room set up for my sisters, and I’m sure I’m behind with gift shopping, and I definitely know I’m behind with work, since I need to start profiles for Luke and his brothers. Not to mention the fact that Luke and Harry have the same tattoo, which is all I’ve been able to think about all morning. Take your pick on things to do.” Louis sighed, “I just need these things done.”  
Michael stood up.  
“I’ll sort out the game room. How many of your siblings are staying there?”  
“I think four.”  
“I’ll do that. You just focus on food, okay? You and Jess do that, and I’ll do the game room, and then we can get some work done. Being as stressed as you are isn’t going to help.”  
Louis nodded.  
“You’re right. Thank you.” Louis said sincerely.  
“I know I’m right,” Michael teased. “I’ll take Niall with me.”  
Louis knew Michael was right. Being stressed would do him no good. He did as Michael said and went to the kitchen to find Jess. She was talking to Liam, which Louis didn’t want to interrupt, so he focused his attention on Harry instead. He had been talking to Niall, who Michael stole to go upstairs, so Louis walked over to him, resting his hand on Harry’s shoulder.  
“Have you eaten?” He asked Harry.  
“You ask me that a lot,” Harry replied. “I have.”  
“I ask because I’m worried about you.” Louis admitted.  
“’M alright.” Harry shrugged.  
“Do you want to help me cook? There are thirteen of us today, and there’s going to be twenty of us tomorrow, so I was thinking we could start on some food.”  
Harry smiled, which, Louis noted, was the first time he had smiled since he had arrived earlier that week.  
“I used to be a chef,” Harry replied.  
Louis rolled his eyes, “Of course you were. That along with your piano skills, it’s mad.”  
“I told you, I’m not very good at piano anymore.” Harry said seriously.  
“Well, that’s a load of utter shit.” Louis replied, “Because I’ve heard you play. Now,” he said, changing the subject, “What do you think we should make?”  
Tom and Jess ended up going to the store for ‘as much butter, flour, eggs, sugar, and almond extract as possible’, and Liam, Louis, and Harry cleared the kitchen. While they waited for Tom and Jess to return, they quickly made sandwiches for lunch, and stuck them in the fridge. And with the copious amounts of baking ingredients supplied by the French couple, Harry guided everyone in making his favourite pastry coined Kris Kringle, after the jolly old man, himself. Liam and Jess had been put in charge of making the icing for the pastries, while Harry was guiding Louis in getting the dough prepared to go in the oven.  
“We need the dough super thin, like this,” Harry said, demonstrating what he wanted Louis to do with his own dough. Louis did as he was told, and Harry critiqued him. “No, no, you want it to be thinner. It’ll poof up in the oven.”  
“Are you sure it’s not going to burn? It’s paper thin, Harry.” Louis replied.  
“I’ve been making these every year for my whole seventeen years, I know what I’m doing.” Harry retorted, sticking his tongue out at his assistant.  
“Yes, I’m sure you—” Louis froze and looked up at Harry, his eyes narrowing. “Did you say seventeen years?” Louis asked, lowly.  
Harry’s eyes widened, and he looked down at his pastry dough.  
“I, um—”  
Louis forgot about Liam and Jess for a moment, his voice rising slightly.  
“You lied about how old you are?” Louis demanded, “Why would you do that?”  
Harry cringed.  
“I—I did it so much while I was,” Harry paused for a brief moment, “It became a habit,” he explained, pleadingly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lie to you.”  
“Harry, you didn’t just lie to me. You liked to a detective and a doctor. We can’t protect you if you’re not honest with us, alright?” Louis said firmly. Harry nodded.   
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.  
“You just need to be careful, Harry. This is for your safety, not to ruin your fun.” Louis explained.  
“I know, I’m sorry.”  
“It’s alright, Harry, but from now on we need to make sure we have all of our facts in order, yeah?” Harry nodded. “So you’re seventeen, not eighteen, correct?”  
Louis returned his attention to the pastry dough in front of him.  
“Correct.” Harry replied, visibly relieved that Louis wasn’t upset anymore.  
“It’s a completely different protocol for us to follow when we work with minors. The way we work with Luke is very different to the way we work with his brothers, for example. Legally, that is.”  
Louis paused again, thinking. Harry watched him curiously, absentmindedly working on his pastry dough.   
“What is it?” Harry asked.  
He received no reply as Louis thought for a second, realizing that there were now two major similarities between Luke and Harry. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing the Detective. He didn't bother to greet the Detective when he picked up.  
"I think I've got it."


	6. Lottie

“What’ve you got, Louis?” The Detective replied, curious.  
“The second word.”  
“What second word? What are you talking about, Louis?”  
“The second word in the tattoo. I don’t know what it means, but I think I know why Harry and Luke both have it.” Louis said seriously.  
He gestured for Harry to carry on with the pastries, and he tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder.  
“Well?”  
“Luke is fourteen.”  
“Yes,” the Detective agreed, “and Harry’s eighteen, what’s the correlation?”  
Louis continued to flatten his pastry dough as Harry had demonstrated.  
“He actually isn’t,” Louis said, looking pointedly at Harry, who was paying incredibly close attention to the food, and not to Louis.  
“How old is he, then?”  
“Seventeen.” Louis replied lowly.  
“So you think it’s because they’re minors?”  
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” Louis nodded, knowing Detective Watson couldn’t see him, “And I have another theory as well.”  
There was a short pause before the Detective replied.  
“Go ahead,” he said slowly.  
“I think that there are more.”  
Harry looked up at that, his eyes narrowing at Louis, and his head cocking to the side. Louis shook his head once at Harry.  
“I agree.”  
“How has Jack only come across two, then?” Louis asked.  
“He wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of having Luke, was he?”  
“Not at all.”  
“Then I can imagine he wouldn’t want others either, now would he?”  
“I suppose not, but they’re out there.”  
“Yes they are.”  
Louis huffed.  
“Well what are we supposed to do about it? We can’t just let that happen.”  
“Louis, be realistic,” Detective Watson said gently, “There are thousands of minors in the trade. The fact that you’ve rescued two of them is a miracle, and in the span of a week, no less. You need to focus on that right now.” Louis began to interrupt but was cut off, “No, I’m not done. The only way to get more of them would be to start easing into the Russian trade, and we can’t walk blindly into a deal with them. For now, we’ll take from Jack. Don’t worry over this right now, do you hear me? If anything you need to be focusing on Harry and Luke. They’ve been to hell and back and they can’t even have a beer. I know you want to help everyone. I do, too, but right now, we can’t. Focus on the holidays for now, and when we regroup in January we can discuss the next steps.”  
“Alright, alright,” Louis said sourly, “You act like I’m neglecting them.”  
He started to work on the next pastry, watching as Harry added a layer to the dough.  
“Are you?”  
“No!” Louis exclaimed causing Harry to look up again, startled, “Are you kidding me?”  
Louis shook his head at Harry again, mouthing an apology to the boy. He worked the dough too thin, tearing it. He swore and balled the dough again, starting over.  
“They’re all at Chez-Lou, it makes me wonder if everyone’s getting enough care.”  
“I can handle it.” Louis snapped, “I’ve handled it every single time, don’t doubt me now.”  
“You’re just a kid yourself, Louis, it’s okay to need help. You’ve got what, a dozen people there?”  
“Thirteen.” Louis replied, flattening the dough, and taking care not to poke another hole, “And I’m not a kid, thank you very much.”   
“And you have another seven coming tomorrow—all of your siblings are coming, right? You’ve got twenty people in one house, Louis, that’s a lot for one person, especially with what’s going on.”  
“I can handle it.” Louis repeated.  
The line was quiet for a moment.  
“Call me if you can’t,” the Detective replied, “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”  
“Bye.” The line went dead, and Louis wiped his hands off on the dish towel so that he could pocket his phone. He looked over to Jess and Liam who were pointedly not paying attention to Louis. He rubbed his neck, where the phone had been resting, and focused again on Harry. His angered expression dissipated at the slightly fearful look on Harry’s face. He sighed. “Am I doing this right?” He asked.  
Harry frowned, and Louis could tell he wanted an explanation for the phone call, but he didn’t press for information.  
“Yeah,” Harry said quietly.  
“’M sorry about that,” Louis said, “I get a bit worked up over this sometimes.” Harry nodded. “After we finish with this, Luke and Calum should be back with the tree. We can all put it up in the foyer, how does that sound?”   
Harry nodded again, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence as they finished the pastries. Harry put them in the oven, then began to load the dishwasher. Louis helped, and Liam and Jess disappeared out of the kitchen, leaving the two by themselves.  
“How old are you?” Harry asked after a long stretch of silence.  
“Twenty-two. Twenty-three in a couple days.”  
“You were born on Christmas?”  
“Christmas Eve.”  
“Oh.”  
“When’s your birthday?”  
“February.”  
It fell silent again, and a few moments later the front door swung open, knocking against the wall, and alerting Louis to the arrival of the Calum, Luke, and the Christmas tree. He and Harry followed the noise to the front door. Moments later Beck and James walked into the room, laughing at Luke, who had the top half of the tree in his arms, and a mouthful of greenery. Luke and Calum set the tree in the center of the foyer, and stepped back to admire their work. The tree was tall, taller than Calum, who towered over the rest of the group, and it fit nicely into the space.  
“Good choice,” Michael said from the top of the stairs. The group looked up at him, “I saw the car pull in.” He explained.  
“Why don’t you find the girls so we can decorate? I’ll get the eggnog. We ought to have a bit of fun while we’re cooped up here.” Louis replied. Michael disappeared again, and Louis returned to the kitchen to find the containers of eggnog and a number of glasses, bringing them back to the foyer where everyone was assembled. It was crowded, but not in an overbearing way. Louis passed out glasses, and set the eggnog on a table by the door. “There’s big-kid-eggnog, and eggnog for those of us who don’t want to get buzzed at half-eleven.” Louis looked pointedly at Harry, “You, sir, can have the regular.”  
Harry nodded sheepishly.  
“Alright, let’s get to it then, shall we?” Michael said loudly.  
He opened a box of ornaments and started passing them out to the group. Soon everyone was involved, and the tree was crowded with decorations. Louis put on one of the many Santa hats, as did Luke and Perrie. Harry smirked at Louis, who had managed to wrap himself up in a long string of gold tinsel as he attempted to unknot it.  
“You fix it then,” Louis said teasingly, so Harry took the end of the string, and continued to wrap it around Louis. “Hey!” Louis cried, “No fair.”  
“You look like an elf,” Harry replied, tucking the end of the string under the collar of Louis’ shirt.  
“I’m not actually that short,” Louis said, sticking out his tongue at the younger boy.  
“Yes you are, but it’s not a bad thing.” Harry shrugged. “I should get the Kringle out of the oven,” he said as an afterthought.   
“I’ll go with.”

Harry had another nightmare that night. They had all stayed up to watch a movie, and Harry had gone to bed before it had finished. Louis watched as he retreated to his room, and wondered if something had upset the boy. It wasn’t until later, when it had begun to rain, thunder shaking the house, that Louis saw Harry. The younger boy had stumbled into Louis’ room without saying a word, and crawled onto the bed. Louis simply pulled the curly haired boy into a hug, and stroked his back until they both fell asleep. Later, when the storm had died down, Harry had another nightmare. Louis woke to Harry thrashing beneath the covers. He tried to wake the boy, without success.  
“Please, stop,” Harry cried out.  
“Harry, are you awake?” Louis asked gently.  
“Please,” Harry begged, now curled into a ball and shaking, “Please don’t.”  
“Harry?” Louis was worried now. “Harry, wake up, love.”  
Harry didn’t react, still shaking, and Louis ran his hand through Harry’s curls, trying to pull the boy from his restless slumber.  
“Louis, please,” Harry cried.  
This surprised Louis. Harry was dreaming about him? Louis shook Harry’s shoulder roughly, and Harry finally awoke, rolling out of bed. He heard the thump, and quickly crawled over to look at Harry.  
“Harry?” Louis asked.  
“Please don’t,” Harry repeated, “Please.”  
He looked up sadly at Louis, with tear stained cheeks.  
“Don’t what, love? It was just a dream.” Louis pulled the covers back for Harry to climb into bed again, but he didn’t. “Harry, come on, get back in bed. It was just a nightmare. Nothing can get to you here, love.”  
“It was a dream?” Harry mumbled.  
“Just a dream,” Louis confirmed.  
Harry nodded slowly, almost as if he was in a daze, and climbed back into bed. Louis moved back to his side of the bed and faced Harry. The dream had felt so real to the younger boy, who warily pulled the blankets up to his chin. He had been so sure that he was awake, that when he did wake up, he thought Louis was still a part of his dream, prepared to make him relive his worst nightmares. He took a shaky breath to calm himself.  
“’M sorry,” Harry said weakly, “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”  
“Don’t apologize,” Louis replied, “I want to be here for you, love. I don’t see it as a bad thing to be woken up.”  
“You don’t?”  
Louis shook his head.  
“No, I want you to wake me up when something’s wrong. That’s what I’m here for.”  
Louis hoped Harry took that statement to heart as they fell asleep again.

The house was crowded as soon as Louis’ family arrived late that morning, and once everyone was settled into their respective rooms, Michael, Lottie, Calum, and Louis holed themselves up in the office to work. Lottie wasn’t officially on the case, but she might as well have been with the amount of work she had put into reading each of the files, and picking out potential clues. The quartet sat in the office, sharing different ideas with each other. Calum was frustrated.  
“All I have for the tattoo is ‘golden,’ or maybe ‘gold,’ but that’s not quite right, and that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Luke and Harry be ‘gold’? This has to be wrong.”  
Louis shook his head forcefully.  
“Absolutely not. I spent hours on that. The translation has to be wrong.”  
Lottie looked up from Harry’s file. She pushed her blonde hair back behind her shoulders and took the picture of Harry’s tattoo from Calum’s hand.  
“Hey!” Calum whined.  
“Let me think.” Lottie ordered.  
Calum obeyed, looking slightly taken aback as Lottie stared at the paper. A few minutes passed before Calum spoke.  
“Well?” He asked.  
“Luke and Harry are special because they’re younger, right?” She asked.  
“Yeah.”   
Calum nodded.  
“And we’re sure this is the only thing they have in common?” Lottie wondered.  
“We think so.” Louis corrected, “There’s always the possibility that there’s something else.”  
“What if Calum’s translation isn’t wrong? Maybe gold is a label for being younger? A way to differentiate between the special, younger people, and the one’s of age, that aren’t special.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“What if Jack is getting all of the people that the organization doesn’t want anymore? Bad eggs, or something.” Lottie sat up straighter, handing the picture back to Calum, “What if they prefer to have kids, so that’s why they get a ‘gold’ stamp?”  
Louis narrowed his eyes.  
“So you’re saying it’s a ring of Russian sex-traffickers that only targets minors?” Calum clarified.  
“Could be.”  
Lottie shrugged.  
“That’s disgusting.” Michael said lowly.  
“So every time Jack calls us, we’re collecting someone who was effectively thrown out twice?” Calum asked.  
“It’s a possibility.” Lottie replied. “That’s just my theory.”  
“So what does the tattoo actually say?” Louis asked Calum.  
Calum slumped in his chair.  
“I have no idea.” He huffed. “One of the words is ‘lucky,’ we already knew that, but the other is some variation of ‘gold,’ and I don’t know how many ways you can say ‘gold lucky’ to make it sound right.”  
“Is it supposed to be said the other way around?” Lottie asked.  
“No, Russian is written left to right, like English.” Calum explained.  
“Why don’t we just ask a translator?” Lottie wondered, “Wouldn’t that make this a hell of a lot easier?” Calum gaped at Lottie. “You’re telling me you didn’t do that first? Why not?”  
“I’ve had a little bit on my mind, if you haven’t noticed,” Calum said, frowning.  
“I was just asking,” Lottie replied.  
“Michael, what about you?” Louis asked, deciding to end the conversation between Lottie and Calum. “Did you find anything?”  
Michael had been looking through hours and hours of footage and audio from the pen that Louis had left behind.   
“I’m getting through it.” Michael said vaguely. “I’m not really finding anything, but I did hear one of his phone calls, and it sounded like he was talking to his supplier. I didn’t get everything he said, since he put the stupid pen in a drawer, but I managed to hear him mention Luke. I didn’t catch what he was saying about him, but I got the name. He didn’t sound very happy.”  
“This is a good start.” Louis replied.  
“See?” Calum said, “I told you it would be a good idea to leave a bug.”  
“Don’t get too excited,” Louis said shortly, “I haven’t decided it’s worth the risk yet.”  
It fell silent again, and Louis continued to write up the files for Luke and his brothers. An hour passed before anyone broke the silence. It was Michael.  
“Holy shit.”  
Louis’ head snapped up.  
“What is it?” Louis demanded.  
Michael had been watching footage from Jack’s house for hours, now, with no luck.  
“He has another one. He’s older than Luke, I’d guess, but not by much.”  
“What?” Calum gasped.  
“How old is that footage?” Louis asked urgently.  
“A few hours.”  
“Do you think we’re going to get a call?” Calum wondered.  
“If he’s a kid, then yes, I would think so,” Lottie replied. “Didn’t you say Jack didn’t want minors?”  
“He’s pissed.” Michael said, staring at his laptop.  
“Let me see,” Louis said.  
The three of them crowded around Michael to watch the screen. It was clear that the recording came from the pen, which only partially captured the scene before them. It was angled at the living area, from the table. The boy stood, staring at what Louis presumed was Jack, off camera. He was stark naked, but the table cut his lower half off from view. The boy backed up a couple steps.  
“Someone just signed with the pen and left. That’s why it’s on the table.” Michael explained. “Here,” he pulled his headphones from the computer, and the sound came through the speakers instead.  
“I fucking said get on your knees,” Jack said lowly. Lottie gasped, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Quit crying before I give you something to cry about.” He threatened, coming into view. He stood in front of the boy, towering over him. “I. Said. Kneel.”  
Jack’s hand flung out and hit the boy across the face, making him stumble to the ground, out of the view of the camera. Bile rose in Louis’ throat and he stood up.  
“I can’t watch this,” Louis said, “I’m going to go check on Harry.”  
“I’ll come with you,” Lottie added, “Mum could probably use some help with the littles.”  
The siblings exited the room, leaving Calum and Michael to stomach the scene before them. Louis heard the boy cry out from the speakers.  
“Please,” he begged, as Louis closed the door.  
Louis grinded his teeth, furious that Jack would treat a child so poorly. Harry repeated the exact same phrase each time he had a nightmare.  
“How long do you think it’ll be before we get a call?” Louis asked his sister as they entered the living room.  
He wanted to barge into the house and demand Jack give up the boy, but he knew he had to wait. He couldn’t out himself so quickly.  
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”  
Louis and Lottie found their mother before they found Harry. Each took one of the twins, and told her to take a well-deserved nap.  
“I think I’m going to go for some tea, actually,” their mother said, “Lottie, why don’t you keep me company?”  
“I’m going to go find Harry,” Louis said, Earnest sitting happily on his hip. “What do you think, Ernie? Want to go find Harry?”   
Earnest giggled, and Louis took the stairs up to the third floor. He waved at his sisters, who sat watching a movie in the game room, and knocked on Harry’s door before entering. Harry sat on the bed, reading a book that Louis guessed came from one of the many shelves in the room.  
“Hey,” Harry greeted.  
“How’re you doing?” Louis asked, taking a seat on the end of the bed, facing Harry.  
Harry set the book face down on the bed.  
“’M alright.”   
He shrugged.  
“Are you really?” Louis replied gently, “You’ve not been getting proper sleep. I’m worried about you.”  
Louis bounced Earnest on his knee.  
“It’s just…hard,” Harry admitted, “I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, and I’m glad I’m here, but every time I close my eyes, I’m back there again.”  
“Are you having nightmares about Jack, or the others?” Louis asked.  
“Both. Everyone. It just won’t stop.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault.” Harry shook his head. “Why aren’t you working?” He asked.  
Louis skirted the question.  
“You’re a lot braver than we give you credit for,” he replied instead.  
“How so?”  
“I can’t stomach some of the stuff we have to see, sometimes. It’s not really fair of me to get up and walk away for a bit, though, when you went through it for months.”  
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused.  
Louis hesitated.  
“When I came to get you, I left a bug at the house,” he said, “It’s small, and virtually undetectable, but it’s giving us insight into what’s happening there, almost in real-time.”  
Harry was smart. He put together two and two and frowned.  
“He has someone there?”  
Louis nodded. He shifted the arm he held Earnest in, and moved further up the bed towards Harry.  
“I couldn’t handle watching what was happening.”  
“Oh.”  
“Like I said, it’s really unfair to you that I walked away. You’re so brave to have survived that.”  
“I wouldn’t say it’s something to be proud of.”  
It fell silent for a few minutes.  
“Last night you said my name,” Louis remembered, “Did you dream about me?”  
“I can’t help it,” Harry replied, looking away from Louis.  
“What did I do in your dream?”  
Louis knew he was pushing his luck, but he asked anyways.  
“I’m just scared, and every time I think I can trust someone, it turns out I can’t.” Harry said. “I don’t want to have these dreams. I don’t think you’d ever—”  
“I’d never.”  
“—do that, but when I fall asleep, you’re right there with them, and it’s awful.”   
Harry hadn’t looked at Louis yet. Earnest yawned, and Louis brought the baby up to his shoulder to rock him.   
“Why did you come to my room, then?” Louis asked, “If I was like that in your dream, why didn’t you find Liam, or Calum, or one of the others?”  
“I dunno.”  
“You can trust me.” Louis said, resting his hand on Harry’s knee. “Hey, look at me.”  
Harry looked up.  
“I know.”  
“I mean it. You can trust me.”  
Harry nodded.  
“I want to.”  
“I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, love,” Louis said seriously.  
“I know.”  
Louis shook his head.  
“You don’t, but that’s okay. You’ll know in time.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be, it’s something that just has to happen in its own time.”  
“I suppose.”  
Louis heard tiny snores coming from the baby in his arms and smiled.  
“Do you want to come help me put Ernie down for a nap?” Harry nodded. “If we’re lucky, some of your pastries might still be in the kitchen. I can’t promise my sisters haven’t eaten it all, though. We might have to make some more. What do you call it, again?”  
The two of them stood up and walked out of the room, waving at the girls on their way down the stairs.  
“Kris Kringle.” Harry replied.  
“It’s really good,” Louis said.  
They walked to the master bedroom, where two cots had been set up for Earnest and his twin. Louis tucked his brother into the first cot, and made sure the baby monitor was on. He led Harry back to the kitchen, and pulled the last of the pastries from the fridge. Harry took a piece.  
“I suppose we should make more,” he said quietly.  
“We have what we need for it, we can make a batch now.” Louis replied. “I’ll have to get some work done after, but I could use the distraction.”  
“Alright,” Harry nodded.   
He and Louis retrieved the needed ingredients and set them on the counter top.   
“What first?” Louis asked.  
“Two parts flour, one part butter—one package is what I usually use, and a little bit of water in a bowl.” Harry said. “I’ll make the other layer.”  
Louis did as he was told, and began to mix the ingredients together with his hands, like he saw Harry do the night before. He watched Harry melt butter and water in a saucepan, and held back a chuckle when the butter sizzled and burned his hand. Harry turned the heat off and poured the mix into a bowl along with a cupful of flour, and mixed it.   
“Is your hand alright?” Louis asked.  
“Just stings a little, nothing I can’t handle,” Harry replied.  
Louis nodded and puts his dough on the baking sheet, flattening it out the way he had the day before. Harry cracked three eggs into his own mixture and tossed the eggshells into the sink. He grinned when he realized he hadn’t missed his target, and a few drops of almond extract and a pinch of salt to the mix.  
“Why do you bother to put any salt in it?”  
“It’s in the recipe.”  
“Yes, but why?” Louis asked.  
“I don’t actually know. It’s how I’ve always made it.”  
“Do you make it a lot? You know the recipe by heart.”  
Louis finished spreading out the dough, and Harry began to add his layer on top while Louis loaded the dishwasher.  
“Every Christmas,” Harry replied. “It’s the family recipe.”  
“Carrying on the tradition.” Louis commented.  
Harry nodded, “Family tradition,” he repeated. It was quiet again. “Do you miss him?” Harry asked.  
“Every minute of every day.” Louis replied.  
“Does it ever get easier?”  
“Not really. You just learn how to move on.”  
Harry nodded, and Louis sat on the counter top beside Harry.  
“How did you do that?” Harry asked quietly, “Move on, I mean.”  
“I didn’t really, did I? Here I am, working with the man responsible for his death. I didn’t exactly try to put it behind me.”  
“You’re not sad, though,” Harry noted, putting the pastries in the oven.  
“Not anymore. The sadness goes away, missing him doesn’t.”  
“I hope you’re right.” Harry replied.  
“Come here.” Louis said.  
“What?”  
“I said come here. Give me a hug.” Harry obeyed, standing between Louis’ legs, and wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist. He relaxed into Louis’ body, his head on Louis’ shoulder. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.” Louis said softly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”  
“I miss them.” Harry whispered.  
“I know you do, love,” Louis replied, “I know you do.”


	7. Harry

They two stood there for several minutes, before Harry pulled away.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Louis frowned.  
“Why are you sorry?”  
“I’m complaining.” Harry replied.  
“No you’re not,” Louis said, “but if you were, it wouldn’t matter. You’re allowed to be sad.”  
Harry shook his head.  
“No I’m not. Other people have faced much worse than I have.”  
“That doesn’t invalidate your grief, love.”  
Harry shrugged, and Louis left the conversation alone. Harry would come to agree with him in his own time. They sat in the kitchen, talking about Louis’ family for a while. He talked about Phoebe and Felicite, who were nearly identical. Felicite was a history buff, while Phoebe was in love with music. She had begun to play every instrument she could get her hands on in an attempt to be closer to Dalton. Harry wore a look of pity and understanding at that revelation. Louis didn’t like that Harry pitied him, and he quickly moved on to Daisy, the second youngest of his sisters, and the twins. Harry smiled at that. He revealed to Louis that Earnest had quickly captured his heart.   
Louis told Harry about Lottie, last. She was really involved in the case, and Louis explained to Harry that he could always talk to her about what had happened, if he decided he wanted to. Harry described Lottie as the ‘younger, blonder version of Gemma,’ and told Louis that the similarities were comforting. Louis understood. Hearing Phoebe play piano had a similar effect on Louis, and Harry asked if playing the piano upset him.  
“It’s kind of nice,” Louis said, shaking his head, “it’s almost like he’s here again.”  
Harry nodded, but didn’t speak again. Louis wondered what that would be for Harry. What would remind him of Gemma and his mum without making him miserable? Right now, Louis decided, nothing. It would take time, like Louis said. It took time for Louis, and Harry was no different. Well, Harry was completely different, but grief doesn’t change.   
Louis thought about how long it took him to be able to hear the piano again. How long did he go without listening to the radio, just to be sure he didn’t think of his brother? How many days did he go without feeling happy? How long was it before he put his entire focus back onto his brother for his work? He couldn’t remember.   
The oven beeped.  
“I can finish the pastries,” Harry said quietly, “you said you needed to get back to work.”  
Louis nodded, and returned to his work, and after finishing icing the Kringle, Harry decided to sit at the piano and play for a while. Louis smiled. He liked the sound. The melodies echoed through the office—a relaxing sound to the group, who were working to find additional safe houses, since there just wasn’t enough room at Chez-Lou for everyone. The house was crowded with people day in and day out, especially once Louis’ family had arrived, and it had reached a point where it was too much for everyone. Calum, Michael, Lottie, and Louis were in the office again. Calum and Michael searched for potential houses, while Lottie continued to read the excessive number of documents compiled for the case. Calum found a house just a few kilometers south of Chez-Lou, and Michael found one just three blocks from their office in Oxford. Having everyone in the same place was something Louis wasn’t too comfortable with, in case someone were to target anyone again. The majority of them weren’t from Paris to begin with, so he wanted to send them back to as close to their homes as possible.   
The sound of the piano stopped, and Louis looked up to see Harry holding Baby Ben and talking quietly to Phoebe, one of Louis’ youngest sisters. Louis watched as Harry slid over on the piano bench to make room for Phoebe. The music began to sound through the room again, a simpler tune from Phoebe, with chords an octave lower from Harry. Louis smiled and returned to his work. He found a flat near his own in London, one that was big enough for a few people to live in, but small enough for one person not to feel lonely. Having found three new potential safe houses, he told Calum and Michael that they’d be in charge of deciding if the houses were good enough, but after the New Year, as it was still technically their vacation as well. Lottie decided she’d go with them, saying her approval was what really mattered. Louis had to agree.  
He wondered how they would split up. Perhaps Perrie and Eleanor would stay together, as they had gotten close over the past few days. Perhaps Liam would stay with Tom and Jess. It was, in the end, up to them to decide where they wanted to go.   
“Do we still have that cake-thing that you and Harry made?” Michael asked, pulling Louis from his thoughts.  
“I think so.” Calum said.  
“We just made more.” Louis nodded, “So unless the girls have gotten to it, there should still be some.”  
Michael stood up.  
“Does anyone want any?”  
Louis and Calum shook their heads, and Michael left. Louis looked back to Harry and Phoebe. Harry had begun to play the piece he had written, and Phoebe was holding Baby Ben.  
“It’s so pretty,” he heard Phoebe say, “Can you teach it to me?”  
Louis saw Harry nod, and he smiled. Phoebe was curious. She always had been, and Louis was pleased to see her helping Harry come out of his shell. He didn’t want him to be trapped in his bad experiences.   
The music stopped and started for an hour. Phoebe learned quickly, and soon the two were playing alongside each other with two octaves between them. The sound was soothing to Louis, who admittedly fell in love with every note struck on that particular piano, but Harry’s song resonated with him. He didn’t want it to end.

Harry had another nightmare that night. Despite consciously trying to prevent the recurring dream, nothing could stop Harry from imagining what he could only describe as Louis’ evil twin. Dream-Louis was worse than anything he had lived through, and he didn’t know why. He almost preferred Jack and the others over dream-Louis, who knew exactly what to do to Harry. Dream-Louis knew everything that Harry kept a secret. Dream-Louis knew exactly how to convince Harry to do what he wanted. He was sneaky and manipulative, and made Harry miserable.   
Dream-Harry fell for it each time, and each time he would wake in the bed on the third floor, without Baby Ben in his arms, and breathe a sigh of relief, knowing it wasn’t real, for the time being. Then the doubt would creep in, and he would wonder if Louis would do that to him. He knew Louis was capable. Everyone was, but there had to be reason. Did Louis have a reason? Harry couldn’t do anything for Louis. He couldn’t repay Louis for what he had done for Harry. It was all Harry had left, and he didn’t understand why Louis wasn’t using that to his advantage. It made sense for dream-Louis to do what he did.   
He woke up, this time, realizing that once again Baby Ben had left his room while he was sleeping, like always. He didn’t like the loneliness that accompanied his empty room, so he took to the living room. Each time he woke from a nightmare, he went to Louis. He just needed to be sure that Louis wasn’t going to hurt him. He tried not to wake the sleeping girls on the way down to the first level, and closed the door quietly behind himself.  
Louis had taken the sofa in the living room, since his mother had his room, and Harry ended up curling up on the other end of the cushions in the early hours of the morning, not wanting to wake Louis. He wondered why Louis kept popping up in his dreams. He was nice to Harry, but that didn’t explain his icy demeanor in Harry’s dreams. The real-life Louis he knew, and the dream-Louis he couldn’t escape were so drastically different, that he didn’t know how or why his mind had created the character to begin with. Louis had been the one to save Harry from Jack. Louis had talked him through his first asthma attack in a decade, while simultaneously easing his panic attack. Louis had given him an amazing home to live in indefinitely. Louis had done so much for Harry, and how does Harry repay him? By waking him up every night, and stealing the blankets? He was convinced Louis wanted something more, even if it was denied every single time Harry asked.  
He couldn’t fall back asleep, and ended up wandering the house. He was fairly familiar with the first and third floors, but had yet to explore the basement or the second floor. He knew Louis’ room was on the second floor, along with several other bedrooms, and he didn’t want to wake anyone, so he decided to take a peek at the basement.   
It scared him a little bit. The last time he was in a basement, it wasn’t very pleasant, and he made a point not to think about it as he stood in front of the basement door. There was a cat door, and he wondered if it was new—for Baby Ben—or if Louis had ever had a cat before. That alone eased his worry; he wasn’t sure why. He opened the door. The stairs were steep, he noticed, when he turned the light on. They were wooden, and led down to a white linoleum floor.   
He descended the stairs, and immediately noticed that the room was much larger than he thought from the top of the staircase. The room expanded out to the left into a home gym—a treadmill, a leg press, and a row machine all in a line facing a floor to ceiling mirror, and a shelf of weights. To the right was the laundry room—or, the space in the basement dedicated to laundry—and another television and sofa. He walked up to the treadmill, wanting to run for a little while. Then he realized he was barefoot, and decided to try the row machine instead.   
Over a hundred easy repetitions later, probably many more, he stopped, and moved on to weights. He didn’t know how long he had spent doing the same motions, having put no effort into counting. His shirt clung to his body, the sweat dripping down his neck. He had no idea what time it was. He stared at his bare feet, breathing heavily. His entire body ached, and his wet hair fell in his eyes. He pushed it back, his hand coming back to wipe the sweat from his face.   
After a few minutes of heavy breathing and staring at the wall, he climbed the stairs, in desperate need of a shower. He was careful to be quiet as he passed the second floor—it was still dark outside, and he didn’t want to wake anyone. He was careful not to wake the girls in the game room, which, unfortunately for him, was right in the path between the stairs and his room. The four of them were oblivious to him passing through. He managed easily, and walked into the bathroom, closing the door before flicking on the lights.   
He no longer looked as gaunt as he had when he first arrived. He still looked sickly, and weak, but there was evident improvement. Color had returned to his pale cheeks—which, in part, was attributed to the workout he had just completed—and he wasn’t as thin. He was still skin-and-bones, but his cheekbones didn’t protrude from his face quite as much, and his eyes didn’t look nearly as sunken in as they had before. His hair stuck to his forehead and neck. He still didn’t like how long it was, and thought about cutting it—but then he realized that it would make his tattoo more prominent. He didn’t want anyone seeing the Russian lettering on his neck, and he didn’t want to have any visible reminder that it was there. Even if he couldn’t see it, he wanted it hidden. He was going to have to learn to like his long hair.   
He stared at the other tattoos. Too many of them were little markings he let his friends doodle, while the other half had a deeper meaning. Some of the meanings changed over time, and he wished they hadn’t. Much of the ink that he once loved was now tainted by Jack, and everyone before him. He struggled to put behind him each of the nights he spent earning Jack a paycheck, or sitting alone in the dark rooms, waiting for someone to come for him. He couldn’t just block out the memories that were seared into the back of his eyelids. His own personal hell, right there when he closed his eyes. He saw hotel rooms, basements, beds. Hundreds of them, each accompanied by someone—sometimes more than one someone—ready to add to his misery.  
He pulled his shirt off, and looked again at himself in the mirror. His ribs still pressed against his skin, almost as if they were trying to escape him. The shadows cast on the edges made the bone stand out even more. His hipbones did the same, poking out from the top of his joggers. The state of his hips were less noticeable due to the fern leaves tattooed over his hips. They were a symbol of endurance. He almost had to laugh at how much he hated what that now meant to him. Endurance. What once meant strength, and reminded him that he could push through anything, now was a reminder of what he had pushed through. He didn’t need the reminder—it was fresh enough in his memory as it was. Harry stopped looking in the mirror. He didn’t want to think anymore.  
The shower relaxed his now-sore muscles. The water burned, and he let it cascade over him for much longer than he really needed, wishing it would wash away the fern leaves, and Zoloto vezuchiy.   
Zoloto vezuchiy. It wasn’t his name. The number of times he was called into a room at the utterance of those words was too high to count. Strangers would say it, almost like a prayer, and it made Harry sick. Louis said vezuchiy meant lucky, but no matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t twist what happened to be a streak of luck. It just wasn’t.   
“Idi syuda, Zlatovlaska,” they would say, “Laki khochet, chtoby yego zoloto.”   
He didn’t know what it meant, but every time he heard it—and it was always the exact same sentence, which he could recite from memory—, he faced the vilest man he had ever met. The man was the one in charge, whoever he was. He stood, towering over everyone else in the room, with bulging muscles and an expression on his face that would scare anyone who dared to look at him. Harry didn’t have to understand what the man said to know what he wanted. It was what everyone wanted from Harry at the time. The room was the same one every time he was summoned. A bedroom—an elegant one—with a four-poster bed, and lavish crimson fabrics adorning every surface. There were two doors—one Harry never saw the other side of, and the other was the one he entered through. It was the same every time. Harry would be brought into the room and forced to kneel by the bed, and the man would enter, look at Harry, and nod once. It was quiet for the majority of Harry’s time in that room. He quickly learned what the man wanted based on his gestures, and he learned even faster what the consequences were for not knowing what to do. The man spoke little English when he bothered to speak at all—the only familiarity Harry had was a total of four words, spoken harshly from the man who broke him.  
The first two were, “Come here,” spoken lowly. Gruffly. The third was, “Good,” and the fourth, always spoken after the Russian, “Der’mo,”—that one was his least favourite word to hear—, was “Enough.” At the utterance of the fourth word, Harry would be taken from the man until he was needed next. Sometimes it was on the same day. Those days were worse than others.   
Harry shuddered, leaning on the shower wall for support. He was crying. The man had instilled a fear in him that was deep rooted. It snuck up on him, and didn’t leave easily. The frustration grew as his body weakened, and he sat down. He pressed his cheek to the tile wall and took a deep breath. He needed to regulate his breathing, and bring himself back to the present moment. The words and phrases he heard echoed in his head.  
“Tsennyy.”  
“Suka.”  
“Igrushka.”  
“Ya khochu yego.”  
“Moy khod.” That one was the worst. When he thought he was finally free from the man, and back in the dark room he was kept it, one of the many goons would utter those two syllables, and Harry’s own personal Hell would open right there in front of him. He didn’t know what the words meant, but he knew what they were related to: him. What they wanted from him. Nothing scared Harry more than his time with the Russians. Not even Jack could compare. Jack was wonderful in comparison—a God, Harry’s own personal savior—and he had made Harry do terrible things. Harry had fallen at Jack’s feet in gratitude for saving him from the Russians, and Jack had more than taken advantage of Harry’s naivety. Harry went willingly with Jack, who had told Harry that nothing would happen to him now, as long as he was obedient. He told Harry that life was going to get better, and if he was a good kid, he’d be able to go where he pleased—home, if he desired. It was a lie. Everything Jack said had been a lie. Harry hadn’t understood the truth behind Jack’s words. He had trusted Jack. He didn’t realize that Jack would end up doing nothing but hurt Harry—physically, emotionally. He brought Harry to motels for sleazy men, and resorts for men who pretended they weren’t the same as the ones in the motels. They were all the same with Harry. As long as Harry cooperated and did what Jack and his clients said, Harry was fine. And Harry tried, dear God, he tried, but sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to do what the men asked of him, and Jack would ruin him when Harry returned with empty hands and a relayed complaint.   
Harry wiped his eyes, and stared at the healing wound from the handcuffs. He had stopped wearing bandages, and had instead worn long sleeves—he didn’t want people asking questions. He didn’t want to talk about it. The red was long gone, but the skin was still tender, and scar tissue was building along the outer edges. It cut the anchor tattoo he had in half. The neck was now severed from the curved base by the beginnings of a thick white line. He scratched at it absently, and the wound opened slightly, at which he swore. The blood trickled down his hand, mixed with the water from the shower, and he groaned. He stood up and ran his hand under the water until it stopped bleeding, and shut the water off.   
He was exhausted, and he wanted to sleep, but it was light out, and he heard people walking around throughout the house, so he knew he would have to, as the saying goes, grin and bear it, although he doubted he’d be grinning. He wanted to keep to himself, or go home to his family, or perhaps fall asleep and never wake up to face his reality.   
His new reality with Louis was wonderful. He was almost happy to be there each day, but the reality between his first days at university and his days with Louis was there, too, and he couldn’t pretend like it wasn’t. He wanted to—almost as much as he wanted to see his family again. He wondered if hypnotists really could make him forget what had happened. He was content with trying, if Louis would allow it. He would try anything.   
He dressed, and wandered downstairs to the kitchen, where, it seemed, everyone in the house had gathered. Stacks of pancakes were on the table, along with eggs, bacon, oatmeal, toast, and every other breakfast food imaginable. Harry noted that it was being eaten quickly by the vast number of people surrounding him, and made a beeline for the pancakes.  
“Morning, Harry,” Phoebe greeted through a mouth of eggs.  
“Morning,” Harry replied, “Sleep well?”  
“Alright, you?”   
Harry offered an ambiguous nod to the young girl as he took three pancakes for his own plate.  
Luke walked up to the two of them and took a seat. His plate held toast and bacon.  
“Hi Phoebe. Morning Harry.”  
“Morning.” Phoebe and Harry replied in unison.  
Harry took his pancakes to the dining room, finding Louis and taking a seat next to him.  
“Hello.” He said quietly.  
“Harry,” Louis replied warmly, “How are you, love?”  
“Alright,” Harry shrugged, “yourself?”  
“Waking up to pancakes and tea on my birthday is hardly something to complain about,” Louis grinned.  
“Happy birthday,” Harry smiled.  
Louis’ grin grew even larger, if that were possible.  
“Thank you, love.”  
“Any birthday plans?”  
Louis nodded.

Louis and Harry wound up at the Eiffel Tower around lunch time. Harry was in a tan coat that came to his knees, and had on a scarf that almost covered his ears it was so big. Louis matched, wearing a similar coat, but smaller and in black, and a scarf, as well. Louis had his hands shoved deep into his pockets as they walked the streets, and Harry wore gloves, one hand around Louis’ wrist so that they wouldn’t accidentally lose each other in the crowd. That thought scared Harry.   
Jess hadn’t packed them something to eat, ordering them to find a restaurant they would like, and eat there instead. They had found a little restaurant off the main street where they could sit and eat, watching the people go by. It wasn’t particularly fancy, but there were still white table clothes and centerpieces on all of the tables. They took a seat in the corner, by a window.  
“I’ve never actually gone to Paris as a tourist,” Louis admitted, placing his napkin in his lap.  
“Really?” Harry asked quietly.  
“Never,” Louis confirmed, “although, I have wanted to for quite some time. This is a nice time to do it, don’t you think?”  
Harry nodded, looking around.   
Snow covered the streets, and holiday decorations lit up nearly every shop window. The Eiffel Tower was lit, and hundreds of people wandered the sidewalks. It was too crowded for Harry’s liking, and he was careful to remind himself that Louis was here with him, and it was going to be okay. He looked away from the window and back to Louis as the waitress took their orders. He had completely missed it, and thanked Louis for ordering for him—his French was rusty, anyways, and he probably would have messed up his order if he had tried.  
“I like the lights,” Harry said once the waitress left.  
Louis smiled.  
“That’s possibly the best part of having my birthday on Christmas Eve. Everyone decorates, and I can pretend it’s for me.”   
“But you never come to town to be a tourist?”  
“I haven’t, no. But even the neighbors have lights, and London typically has decorations as well.”  
“London?”  
Louis’ eyebrows stitched together in confusion.   
“I don’t live here,” Louis clarified, “I have a flat in London, but I stay at the Chez-Lou whenever anyone is there.”  
“You never told me that.”  
“I guess it hasn’t come up, then. It will once we’ve gotten other safe houses in order. Well, they’re not quite safe houses, per se. More like houses that are safe. We’ve found a few, but we need to take a closer look before anyone signs anything,” Harry looked lost, and Louis elaborated more, “You don’t expect to live in Paris forever, do you? We have to find proper places for all of you to live in. Of course, you and Luke will stay in our care until you’re of age, but after that, you’ll be free to live where you like. Either in a place you find for yourself, or one we find for you.”  
“Oh.”  
Truth be told, Harry hadn’t thought that far into the future. Not really. He only knew that he wouldn’t be going back to his home in Cheshire. He hadn’t even thought about what he was going to do about his schooling. He was a semester behind in his studies, and he didn’t even know if the school knew he was okay. It hadn’t crossed his mind. He made a note to ask Louis about it on a day that wasn’t his birthday.   
The waitress returned with their drinks in hand, setting them in front of the two.  
“Merci,” Louis said.  
“De rien.”  
“You’re good at French.” Harry noted, thinking of how Louis had spoken to the town car diver, the waitress, and even to Jess, on occasion, in the language.  
“I decided I’d learn if the safe house was going to be in Paris. I’m not fluent, but I know enough to get by. Jess and Tom are who you want to go to for anything about the language.”  
“I figured,” Harry replied.   
“Do you speak a second language?” Louis wondered.  
“No, but I used to be a bit better with my French, and I’ve picked up a little bit of Russian.”   
He didn’t elaborate on either, knowing Louis would understand.  
“How much Russian do you know?”  
“I can say the basic hello, and please, and I know what happened when I heard some words, but I didn’t know what they meant. Still don’t.”  
Louis nodded.  
It was quiet again, between the two. Harry listened to the conversations of the people around him, picking out words here and there, but mostly just enjoying the ambient noises.  
The food arrived. In front of Louis and Harry was the same meal—a plateful of food identical to what Harry had been served his first night at Chez-Lou.  
“I thought you might like it,” Louis shrugged, “you finished it the first time.”  
“I did—I do,” Harry replied, “Did you know they served it here?”  
Louis shook his head.  
“I had no idea. It’s one of my favourites, though.”  
The two began to eat quietly. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and Harry was grateful for it. He didn’t feel any pressure to try to please Louis, or to avoid making a mistake of any kind, which was a pleasant change from the last few months, where any mistake was punished severely. Louis and Harry made eye contact, and Harry smiled nervously. Louis chuckled.  
“What?” Harry asked.  
“It’s just,” Louis paused.  
“What?” Harry repeated.  
“You’re much happier.” Louis noted. “It’s a good thing. You were so empty a couple weeks ago, and here you are smiling.”  
“I can’t help it if you looked at me funny.” Harry accused lightly.  
“You could at the beginning.” Louis replied. “I’m glad I can make you smile.”  
Harry hesitated, but nodded.  
“I’m glad, too,” he said, “I want to be happy again.”

Harry and Louis decided to walk down the champs-elysees until the sun went down. The lights were starting to stand out against the grey buildings, and the Eiffel tower at the end of the street looked spectacular. Harry made a point to focus on this, rather than the people who kept knocking into him. He knew they were harmless, but he couldn’t help but feel his heart race every time someone came too close. He kept his arm linked with Louis—he would protect Harry if anything were to happen.  
“I’m pretty sure I want Lottie to take over once we’ve dealt with this.” Louis said. Harry gasped quietly as someone bumped into his shoulder, and Louis continued. “She’s really involved in the work, and she can stomach more than I can, which is good. I’m not sure what to do about extractions, though, since she can’t be undercover since she’s a girl.” Harry nodded, trying to focus strictly on Louis, rather than the crowd. “Not that being a girl is bad, but it’s bad when she’s walking into that situation. She isn’t even remotely intimidating, and she’ll just be sucked under, and that can’t happen.” Harry took a deep breath. Louis was here with him, nothing was going to happen. They were walking down the street on Christmas Eve, and nothing was going to happen. No one wanted to hurt Harry—he was safe. “So I think I’ll have to have Calum or Tom take over for that in particular, since they’ve been in that situation before. I mean none of this is going to happen anytime soon, but I do think it’s starting to come to the point where I need to do something different. It’s almost masochistic, don’t you think?” Harry nodded again. Masochism—that was the word he picked out of Louis’ rambling. He didn’t quite know what Louis was saying, too focused on the world around him. “Working on this project to help end what happened to Dalton when it’s not something that will ever end in my lifetime—it’s silly, isn’t it? I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m just thinking aloud here, though. We’ll probably come back to it after we’ve gotten more information, and taken Jack out of the equation. Everyone will have to be moved into the other safe houses first, too. We can’t do anything until everyone’s safe. There are a lot of steps. I don’t know. It’s all about you guys.” Harry clung closer to Louis as a man bumped into him harshly, and told him off briefly in French as they walked in opposite directions. Louis noticed. “Are you alright, love?” Louis asked, looking at Harry. Harry shrugged noncommittally. “Really, Harry, if you’re not, we can go home. It’s dark and cold—there are a lot of people here, is that it? Is the crowd the problem? We don’t have to stay. We can go. Why don’t I find us a ride, okay?”  
“Okay.”  
The two turned off of the main road, and onto a side street, where fewer people stood. Louis took out his phone and dialed a number.  
“Bonjour…oui. Le Tour Eiffel…merci. Deux…non, une voiture, pas deux. immédiatement, s’il vous plaît…merci.”  
When the taxi arrived, Harry was beyond ready to leave. He and Louis climbed into the car quickly. Immediately, Harry leaned on Louis, and Louis wrapped his arm around the younger boy’s waist.  
“Would you talk in French?” Harry asked.  
“About what?”  
“Anything.”  
Louis thought for a moment.   
“Il était une fois une petite fille avec les cheveux blondes. Elle s’est appellés Boucle d’Or.”  
“Is this Goldilocks?”  
“Oui, tais toi.” Harry stuck his tongue out at Louis, who continued, “Boucle d’Or était curieuse, et quand elle a trouvé la maison des trois ours, elle entra,” Louis looked down at Harry, who was resting his head on Louis’ shoulder, “Elle était très faim, donc elle est allé dans la cuisine. Elle a vu trois bols avec bouillie. Le premiere bol était très chaud, et le deuxième bol était très froid, mais le troisième bol était parfait. Après elle a mangé, elle était fatigue. Elle est allé a la chamber. Elle a vu trois lits. Le premier lit était trop dur, et le deuxième lit était trop doux, mais le troisième lit, il était juste, et Boucle d’Or dormait sur ce lit. La fin.”  
It was quiet for a moment.  
“That’s a very short version of Goldilocks.” Harry said, yawning.  
“You put too much faith in my ability to speak French.”  
“It sounds like music. It’s nice.”  
“It sounds like music?”   
“I don’t really understand it, so it’s just nice noises.” Harry explained.  
“Do you want me to ask him to turn on the radio?” Louis asked, nodding towards the driver.  
Harry shook his head, cuddling further into Louis, and yawning again.  
“I like the sound of you much more.” Harry admitted.  
“Do you, now?” Harry nodded. “Do you want me to keep talking?”  
“Yes please.”  
“In French?”  
“In any language you want.”  
“Alright.”  
“Not Russian,” Harry amended quietly, “Any language you want, but not Russian.”  
“Il était une fois un fils qui était très courageux,” Louis began, “Il était grand, et il était les yeux verts, et beaucoup de tatouages, comme moi. Il était triste. Il a fait face l'homme mauvais, Jack, et il a échappé aux Russes. Il était un héros,” Louis said gently. He brushed Harry’s hair from his face, and smiled when he heard the younger boy snore lightly, “Il s’est appellee ‘Arry.”

That night, everyone ate dinner together in the dining room. All twenty of them fit snugly around the table, bowls and drinks being passed around as the small talk ensued. Harry sat beside Louis and Lottie, who were having an in depth conversation about Lottie’s future with Louis’ team, and Calum sat across from Harry, seemingly very interested in what Phoebe, Daisy, and Felicite had to say about Santa Claus. It was half past eight, and the kids were prepared to go to sleep and wake up to gifts under the tree, so Louis’ mum excused herself from the table to help get everyone ready for bed. Luke, Beck, and James were having a conversation about Luke’s education, which reminded Harry that he should sort that out for himself, and quickly. Liam and Niall were deep in conversation with Perrie and Eleanor. The four of them had disappeared for the day, as well, and Harry learned they had scoped out the home theatre in the guest house. The four were now avidly discussing the films they had watched back to back. Michael sat at the end of the table with Jess and Tom, having a serious conversation about something fairly philosophical, but Harry hadn’t been listening, and was quite lost when he went to rejoin the conversation. He instead decided to listen to Calum and the girls, who were discussing the science behind Mr. Claus making it around the world in one night.  
“Well, obviously we’ve established that he starts at the International Date Line,” Calum said, “So he starts in Russia, then goes down to New Zealand.”  
“Why would he go over China, and Japan, and all of those other countries?” Felicite asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”  
“He goes there next.” Calum answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Then he goes to Australia.”  
“When does he come here?” Daisy wondered.  
“As soon as he finishes with all of Asia and Africa. Well, almost all of Africa. He still has to go to Morocco, and Cote d’Ivoire, and all of the western African countries after he comes to us.”  
“How fast is he?” Phoebe asked.  
“Well, if he has to give gifts to all of the nice children in one night, and there are a lot of them, then he has to be super-fast, because there’s not a lot of time in one night.”  
“How fast is super-fast?” Felicite wondered, wide-eyed.  
“You’ll have to ask Santa.”  
“Maybe you should get ready for bed, girls,” Louis said, joining the conversation, “Santa won’t come unless you’re asleep, and you wouldn’t want him to have to miss our house, would you? He’s got a busy schedule.”  
The twins were up and out of the dining room in seconds, hurrying to get into bed.  
“Time for grown-up talk.” Calum said.  
“Always a good time.” Lottie replied, sarcastically.  
“Should Luke and Harry stay?” Michael asked.  
“I think that would be wise. They ought to have a voice in the decision making here.” Lottie said.  
“What decision making?” Beck asked.   
“You guys can’t live here forever.” Louis said.  
“Not that we don’t want you to,” Calum added.  
All attention was on Louis at that. Harry was worried. They were being kicked out? Where would they go? Harry didn’t have a house anymore. He couldn’t support himself without a job, either. Harry had absolutely nothing outside of Louis, and now he was being asked to leave. He willed himself not to panic.  
“But you need your own places to stay.” Louis explained. “We’ve found a few places, and we’re still looking for a couple more, unless any of you want to double up. That’s why we wanted to sit down with you all first.”  
“I’m not quite following,” Liam said.  
“They’ll function as safe houses, since we’re still uncertain about everything at the moment, but it’ll be fully covered. All you have to do is live there.” Lottie replied.  
“All we have to do is live there?” Harry repeated, “Houses are expensive.”  
Harry found himself once again doubting Louis’ generosity.  
“When you decide to move elsewhere—if you decide to, that is—the house will be used for other things. It’s an investment, not an expenditure, Harry, don’t worry about that. However, you and Luke can’t live on your own yet. Luke’s a special case, but you’re too young, so we’ll either have you stay here until February, or you can stay with me, or maybe we can work something out with Michael or Calum.”  
“We aren’t splitting up from Luke.” James said, a tone of finality in his voice.  
Luke nodded, and leaned into James’ side. James wrapped his arm around Luke’s shoulders protectively.  
“We’re not asking you to. That won’t ever have to happen. There are a few options we can discuss. For now, we just wanted to get a feel for what everyone wants.” Louis explained.   
“What Louis means, is you can live together if you’d prefer, but we want to know before we make any purchases.”  
“That’s reasonable.” Perrie said.  
“Yeah,” Eleanor agreed, “And I think I can speak for Perrie when I say we’d be fine with rooming with each other.”  
“The company would be nice.” Perrie nodded.  
Lottie smiled.  
“That’s two of you settled, and then Liam and Niall, what about you both?” She asked. “You can sleep on it—we’re not in any hurry.”  
Liam and Niall nodded.  
Tom and Jess excused themselves to bed, clearing the table.  
“Harry, you and I can talk later, if you’d like?” Louis offered.  
“Yes please.” Harry replied.   
“And I’ll talk to the rest of you about logistics.” Lottie said to Beck and James.  
“Alright, I think we can call it a night. We can reconvene over breakfast and Christmas presents.” Calum said, standing.  
“After that. The girls probably shouldn’t be around when we discuss safe houses.” Louis amended.   
The group said their goodnights, and went their separate ways, leaving Louis and Harry who walked into the living room. They sat on the couch, each of them leaning on the arm rests and facing each other. Louis pulled the quilt up over his lap—he had left it, along with his pillow in the room, since the sofa was his home until his family went home again. Louis smiled at Harry.  
“What?” Harry asked.  
“Nothing,” Louis replied, shaking his head. “Do you want to stay down here? You’ll probably come down anyways.”  
“Okay.” Harry shrugged.  
The sofa was wide enough for the two of them, and they reclined side-by-side, Harry behind Louis. Harry would’ve stayed on the other end, but there was only one pillow to share, and Louis insisted he was comfortable, so he relented and the two shifted to make room.  
“Goodnight, love.” Louis yawned.  
“Night, Lou.”  
Louis fell asleep first, Harry’s mind was racing. Louis had offered for Harry to stay with him, wherever that was. He knew it was only temporary, but he didn’t want to leave Louis quite yet. Harry felt the safest he had in months when he was with Louis, and he wasn’t ready for that to end. He kissed Louis’ shoulder, and drifted off, a smile on his lips.


	8. Part Two

The New Year came and went without much fuss. Calum and Michael surveyed the safe houses, and Louis’ family left Chez-Lou. It was instantly quieter in the large house, and the noise continued to lessen as everyone was moved to the safe houses, which Louis had purchased almost immediately after they were approved. He paid extra just so that he would have the freedom to use the houses within days of the purchase, and he had accompanied Calum to set up the security throughout each location. Michael had tagged along to be an extra set of hands, and the three of them went to each of the houses one by one, setting up cameras, alarm systems, motion detection lights, and anything else the trio could come up with to make the houses as safe as possible.  
Perrie and Eleanor were the first to leave in early January, taking the safe house nearest Chez-Lou. Liam and Niall were next, taking two separate flats near the office a week later, and Luke, James, and Beck moved into the house nearest Louis’ flat, just so that Louis could check in on them every now and then. When it came to Harry, it was decided that he would live with Louis until he felt comfortable living alone. He didn’t have the same familial support system that the Hemmings’ had, and he didn’t know how to sleep through the night without having a nightmare. Louis refused to let Harry live alone until all of these things had been rectified.   
“We have a few options,” Louis had said, “the first is for you to stay here with Jess and Tom for as long as you’d like. We could find you a house, or you could find one for yourself, if you’re that insistent to it, but I’m not too fond of that. The next option is for us to put you into one of the safe houses, and we’ll get you re-enrolled in Uni. I’d prefer the third option,” Louis had admitted, “which would be you living with me in London, until you’re ready to do otherwise. You’d be re-enrolled in Uni, obviously, but you’d stay with me, instead of a safe house.” Harry had been surprised that Louis’ preference was keeping him around. Despite how genuine Louis’ generosity had been, Harry had had his doubts. He couldn’t bring himself to fully trust Louis, and it had made him feel incredibly guilty, which Louis noticed. “Harry, love, I want to do this,” he had insisted, “I want you to stay with me. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t—it’s not exactly common practice,” he explained.  
“It’s not that I don’t want to stay,” Harry had said.  
“Then what’s bothering you?”  
“Won’t I be in your way?” Harry asked, “You live alone—won’t it be annoying to have someone else in the house all of the time?”  
Louis had laughed at that.  
“If I had thought for once that you would bother me, I wouldn’t have offered. If I had thought you would be in the way, I wouldn’t have offered, either. You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to, love. It’s up to you—I just thought you’d be more comfortable with some familiarity. If I’m wrong, speak up, alright? This isn’t about what I want, it’s about you feeling safe and at ease no matter what.”  
Harry hadn’t minded, and eventually agreed. It only mattered to Harry that Louis wasn’t upset about the arrangement, not the other way around. He felt safe with Louis, and was content with living in his London flat until other arrangements were made. He and Louis packed Harry’s things into a couple of bags, and prepared to return to London at the end of January. Lottie had stayed behind as well, and Louis had agreed to escort her back to school for her last semester.   
When it came time for everyone to return home, the five remaining habitants of Chez-Lou packed their bags into the trunk of Michael’s car (a car for rent, but for all intents and purposes, it was Michael’s), squeezed into the backseat—Michael driving, and Calum in the passenger’s seat—and waved goodbye to Tom and Jess, who watched from the kitchen window.   
The trip was long—it was over an hour to the Eurotrain, alone—and there were stops to be made each step of the way. Once the five of them reached the train station, Harry started to feel overwhelmed. Louis, acting as ring leader, handed everyone their documents, and making sure nothing was left behind before ushering the five of them into the customs line.   
Harry had been in this line several times with Louis and Tom, but he had been under so much duress that it was all a blur in his mind. This time, Harry was alright—not completely fine, but at least he looked the part. He stood beside Louis in line, and stepped up to the customs worker.  
“Name?” The worker asked.   
He read Harry’s documents and looked up at him expectantly.  
“Harry Styles.”  
“How old are you?”  
“Seventeen.”  
“Where are you headed today?”  
“Home.”  
“Are you travelling with anyone?”  
Harry pointed to Louis.  
"I’m his guardian.” Louis said shortly.  
The worker looked Harry up and down several times before nodding. He handed Harry back his documents and him pass, taking Louis’.   
“Please wait there,” the worker said.  
He pointed to a row of chairs behind him, and Harry waited a few steps away, watching.  
“Name?”  
“Louis Tomlinson.”  
“Date of birth?”  
“December twenty-fourth.”  
“Year?”  
“Seriously?”  
“Year, sir.”  
“Ninety-one.”  
“Your profession?”  
The worker looked tired, bored even, but Louis looked agitated.   
“Private Investigator.”  
“Contracted under whom?”  
“I’m not at liberty to say. What does this have to do with my credibility? I am me.”  
“It’s just protocol, sir. Would you please wait to the side for me?”  
The worker pointed to a row of chairs to his left, and Louis nodded, frustrated. Harry sat with Louis, and the two of them waited for the remaining three to pass through. An officer came up to the duo and led them to two offices to their left. They were ushered into different ones, and Harry began to panic as the door was closed, leaving him alone in the room.   
It was cold—both in appearance and temperature. The walls were grey, and there was only one table with a few chairs on either side. Harry didn’t sit. Instead, he paced the room, trembling.   
He wasn’t in trouble. Not yet at least. And nothing he had done so far had warranted him getting into trouble. He was only going on the train. That wasn’t illegal. He had done it before. He couldn’t think of what was wrong. He handed his passport to the customs worker and he answered the questions honestly.   
His passport. Was it his passport? He hadn’t even looked at it, but it wasn’t possible for it to be his actual passport. Louis had only gotten what Jack had, and Jack only had what the Russians had, and no one had his real papers. He hadn’t had his real papers when he was kidnapped. No one carries their passport around. Whatever passport he had was fake. It had to be.   
He was going to go to jail. There was no other alternative. They were going to come into the room and tell him that he had stolen someone’s identity and was going to prison forever. He needed to calm down. He felt trapped. The room closed in on him.  
He felt his chest tighten. He didn’t have his bag, with the inhaler Louis had gotten him. This scared him—he didn’t want to need it, but he was starting to think he did. Not because he was going to have an asthma attack, but he was anxious, and he wanted the artificial ease of breathing that came from the medication. Not having the inhaler only added to the stress of the room closing in on him.   
He fought the impending panic attack, forcing himself to see reason, even if it only bought him a little bit of time. Louis was just in the other room, and everything was going to be okay.  
He leaned against the wall, facing the door, and breathing deeply. He kept telling himself that he was fine, but the words didn’t resonate with him as he hoped they would. His chest tightened further as he slid down the wall.   
“You’re fine, Harry,” he said loudly, to himself, “you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.”  
But he wasn’t fine. He could barely breathe and his arms were tingling. He had to calm himself down. He had to. He was going to die.  
He remembered what Louis had told him on his first night at Chez-Lou.  
“Put your hand on your head,” Louis had said to him, “it opens your lungs. Count your heartbeats. Focus on that.”  
He did as Louis had said, and lifted his arm over his head, his other hand coming up to his chest to feel his heartbeats. He noticed somewhere in his consciousness, after sixty two quick pulses, that the door opened, and someone walked in. He felt lightheaded. This was it, he was going to prison. Sixty four. Sixty five. Sixty six.  
They kneeled beside him, and Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He needed to calm down or he was going to die.  
“Est-ce que tu vas bien?” The stranger asked. Harry looked up at the officer, unsure of what he had said. He tried to focus on the man in uniform as he kept counting. He couldn’t breathe. Eighty eight. Eighty nine. “’Arry, are you alright?” The man asked.  
“Can’t breathe,” Harry gasped, “Louis,” he begged, “I need,” he paused, “Louis. I need Louis.”  
“We cannot do that, ‘Arry. Can you tell me why you are ‘aving trouble breathing? Do you know why?”  
Harry shook his head.  
“Louis,” he repeated, “Please, Louis.”  
Ninety seven.  
The officer turned to face away from Harry.  
“Apportez Louis ici. Vite.”  
Harry didn’t understand, but he heard Louis’ name, and could only hope for the best. He felt dizzy. He kept counting.  
Someone else kneeled beside Harry. One hundred and two. One hundred and three. One hundred and four.  
“He’s having a panic attack. Un attaque de panique. Harry, can you hear me?” Louis. Louis was talking to him. He nodded. He could hear.   
“I can’t breathe,” Harry gasped, “I can’t breathe.”  
One hundred and twelve. One hundred and thirteen.   
“Harry, love, you’re doing so well. You can breathe. You’re breathing right now.” He was? It didn’t feel like any air was entering his lungs. “Everything’s alright, I’m right here. Focus on me, love. It’s alright. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” One hundred and twenty. “Harry, I want you to focus on me, alright? Look at me.”  
Harry looked up. One hundred and twenty three. One hundred and twenty four. Louis was there, and he was watching Harry intently. One hundred and twenty six.  
“I can’t,” Harry cried.  
One hundred and twenty seven. Someone spoke. Harry couldn’t see who. He looked back at Louis. Louis was right there beside him. He needed to calm down. One hundred and thirty one.  
“Que fait-il besoin? Devrions-nous appeler un médecin?”  
“Un inhalateur. Dans mon sac. Harry, we’re getting your inhaler. Can you focus on your breathing, love? Stop counting your heartbeats. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Here, put that hand on top of the other one. I want you to breathe for me, alright? Breathe in—that’s it. You’re doing great—breathe out. Good, Harry. In. Out. See? You’re better already.” Someone handed Louis Harry’s inhaler, and Louis handed it to Harry, who took a deep breath on the device, and held it. He felt his lungs opening up. His chest didn’t feel as tight. His heart was still racing—faster now, if that was even possible—but he wasn’t going to die. He was still going to prison, but he wasn’t going to die. That was a start. “Good, Harry, now breathe out. It’s alright. Everyone here is here to keep you safe.” Harry nodded. “I’m so proud of you, love. You’re just fine. We’re all here. Are you still taking deep breaths?”  
Harry nodded. He was starting to be able to breathe again. His chest hurt from the panic that was ripping through it moments prior, but air was filling his lungs, and Louis was right beside him. The world didn’t feel like it was spinning anymore. It was nearly instantaneous.  
“Il va bien maintenant?”  
“Oui, mais il a besoin de repos. Quel est le problème avec nous prendre le train? Harry est juste un enfant. Qu'est-ce que vous lui dites?” Louis replied.  
“Il est un enfant disparu. Il doit être placé en détention et est retourné à la maison, et vous avez besoin d'être interrogé.” The officer said sternly.  
Harry understood none of what was being said, but he knew the word détention sounded somewhat like detention, which was another word for prison. He was right all along. His future was a cellblock with hundreds of scary men around him.   
“Please,” he shook his head weakly, “I don’t want to go to prison.”   
Louis immediately turned his attention to Harry.  
“You are not going to prison, do you hear me? You’ve done nothing wrong.” He said seriously. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about. All you need to do right now is focus on your breathing. We’re going to sort this out. Just keep taking slow deep breaths for me, alright?”  
Harry nodded.  
“Quoi?”  
Louis returned his attention to the officer.  
“Sa famille est morte. Il est pas un enfant disparu. En plus de cela, je suis la personne qui l'a sauvé. Il reste avec moi en ce moment.”  
The officer shook his head.  
“Nous ne pouvons pas permettre cela.”  
“Il se tourne dix-huit ans dans une semaine. Il n’est pas dangereux, il est une victime de la traite des êtres humains. Je suis désolé, monsieur, mais il a vécu assez sans que vous l'effrayer.”  
What was Louis apologizing for? He couldn’t understand. He took another steady, deep breath.  
“Et qui êtes-vous?”  
“Un détective privé.”  
“Comment êtes-vous impliqué?”  
“Je vous ai dit: Je l'ai trouvé.”  
Louis pointed to Harry.  
“Avez-vous l'identification?”  
“Mon badge est dans mon sac, ainsi. Parlez vous anglais? Cette bouleverse Harry.”   
Louis pointed out of the room, then pointed to Harry again, who had put his entire focus on the conversation to hopefully distract himself. It was working.  
The officer left the room for a moment, the door closing behind him.  
Louis turned to Harry.  
“You’re just fine, Harry,” he promised, “It’s just a misunderstanding. You’re alright.”  
“I’m, I’m fine?” he repeated, reassuring himself more than Louis, “I’m fine.”  
“You are fine,” Louis agreed.   
“Alright,” Harry sighed.  
Louis had never lied to him before. If Louis thought Harry was alright, he was probably alright. Louis leaned back slightly, nodding. He made to stand up, and Harry attempted to stand, as well.   
“Slow down, love, take it easy,” Louis insisted. He pushed Harry back down to the ground. “Don’t rush yourself. You’re still recovering.”  
Harry stayed seated, like Louis said. The door opened again, with the officer entering.  
“Bonjour. Est-qu’il va bien maintenant?”  
“Est-qu’il bien? Avez-vous terminé l'effrayer?”  
Louis seemed mad.  
“Il est le protocole, sa réaction était inattendue.”  
“Avez-vous trouvé mon badge?”  
“Oui.” The officer held up something small, maybe the size of Harry’s palm. Harry wondered why Louis was asking about it, whatever it was. “Nous vous faisons confiance, mais nous avons encore besoin de lui poser quelques questions.”  
“Seulement si je suis dans la salle.”  
“Nous ne pouvons pas faire cela. Vous aurez besoin d'attendre à l'extérieur.”  
“Il ne sera pas comme ça.”  
“Il est pas votre décision, monsieur. S'il vous plaît de sortir de la salle.”  
Louis looked conflicted, and Harry wondered why. Louis kneeled back down beside Harry.  
“I’m going to step out of the room for a minute while they ask you a few questions, and then we can catch the train.”  
“What’re they going to ask me?” Harry wondered.   
He didn’t want Louis to leave. He wanted Louis to stay and tell the officer that he hadn’t done anything wrong.  
“I’m not sure, but probably something about your disappearance, alright? It’s just a few questions.” Harry hesitated. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll be right outside.”  
“Why didn’t they do this the first time?”  
“Sometimes things slip through the cracks. I’m going to call Detective Watson while you talk to the officer, and then we can go catch the train. It’s going to be alright, I promise.”  
“Okay,” Harry replied quietly.  
Louis helped Harry to his feet, and guided him to one of the chairs at the table. Harry took a seat, and Louis left the room.   
Harry and the officer were alone. The officer sat across from Harry and set a notepad and pen onto the table.  
“Bonjour, ‘Arry, comment vous sentez-vous?”  
“Bonjour.” Harry replied. “Um…je ne parle pas français.”  
“Sorry. ‘Ow are you feeling?”  
“Oh, I’m…bien.”  
“Good. Can you tell me ‘ow monsieur Louis found you?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“’E did not tell you?”  
“I didn’t ask. I only know that I’m happy he found me when he did.”  
“Pourquoi?”  
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  
“If you don’t mind, I really don’t want to go back there. Can we move on?”  
“Oui. ‘Ow long ‘ave you been with monsieur Louis?”  
“He found me in December. I can’t remember the exact date.”  
The officer nodded and marked a few things onto his notepad before holding up Harry’s passport.  
“Can you tell me when you got your passport?”  
Harry blanched. What was he supposed to say? Louis hadn’t told him what to say, and no one had taught him what to do when you travel with potentially fake documents. It’s not like there was a handbook with all of the answers. Even if there was, he hadn’t read it.  
“Um,” he hesitated.  
“’Onesty is important ‘Arry. You are not in any trouble, we just need to understand.”  
Harry nodded slowly, and picked at the sleeve of his shirt.  
“I don’t know,” he admitted.  
“Quoi?”  
“I don’t know when I got this passport.”  
The officer wrote this down on his pad.  
“Did you get this passport, or did someone else get it for you?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“We are going to need to verify if it’s a real document, alright? After that, if it is real, you may be on your way.”  
The officer stood up.  
“Can…can Louis come back?” Harry asked. “S'il vous plait?”  
“Oui.”  
Harry watched the officer leave, and felt relief wash over him as Louis entered. He took a seat next to Harry, who reached out for a hug.  
“Are you okay?” Louis asked.  
“’M scared.” Harry admitted, hugging Louis tighter.  
Louis hugged him back just as tightly.  
“Don’t be,” he replied, “I’m here, and so are Lottie, Calum, and Michael. We won’t let anything happen to you.”  
“He said they had to authenticate my passport.”  
Louis sat up and looked at Harry.  
“That’s what’s worrying you? You think it’s fake?”  
Harry nodded.  
“It can’t be my actual one, can it?”  
Louis sighed.  
“It’s new, Harry, love. We knew that what Jack handed us was fake. It had to be, so we had a new one made. You wouldn’t think that a group of police officers would get you a counterfeit passport, would you?”  
Harry shrugged.  
“I didn’t know.”  
“That’s okay. We didn’t exactly mention it, now did we?” Harry shook his head. “So that’s what they’re doing? Checking it?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You have nothing to worry about, then, love. It’s all sorted.”


	9. Ashton

And it was all sorted. There were no more blips on the way to Louis’ flat. They brought Lottie to school, and dropped Calum and Michael at the office before heading to what Louis called home.   
They rode in a taxi, and Harry spent the majority of the hour-long ride asleep on Louis’ shoulder. Harry ignored how tense Louis was, assuming that it had something to do with what had happened in the train station.  
When they arrived at the flat (it was situated at the top of a towering apartment complex that had Harry craning his neck to see the top floor), Louis insisted on carrying all of the bags in, and Harry insisted on helping, as they were his bags for the most part. Harry noted, as Louis hit the button for the top floor, that Louis had failed to mention that he lived in the penthouse of the apartment complex. This didn’t surprise him, as Louis did seem quite comfortable in his wealthy lifestyle, and Harry couldn’t find it in him to judge, since it was very nice.   
It was late when the two had finished settling in, and after Louis had given Harry a quick tour of the flat. Harry had noted that, like Chez-Lou, the flat had dozens of snow globes and photographs that contained images of Louis and his many sisters.   
The flat was cool, but not cold, and was empty for the most part. Aside from minimalist furniture, and the assorted snow globes, the place barely looked lived in. Harry assumed this was because Louis had stayed at Chez-Lou for a few months, but he made a note to keep everything in its proper place, just in case Louis preferred it that way.  
Louis showed Harry to his room. It was average sized, but looked shockingly similar to the room he stayed in at Chez-Lou. It had the same bed, and the walls were the same color as the other room. He wondered why they looked alike.   
Louis set Harry’s suitcase on the bed.  
“You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen, although I’m sure it’s quite empty since I’ve been gone so long. I’m going to head off to bed, though, so if you need anything, you know where to find me.”  
“Alright. Thanks again, Louis,” Harry said quietly.  
“You don’t need to thank me, love, I want to do this.”  
“Thank you.”  
With that, Louis went to bed.  
Harry did as well. He moved the suitcase to the floor, and dressed for bed. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. His reflection in the mirror was nearly unrecognizable from his reflection when he arrived at Chez-Lou. He was well fed, and no longer skin and bones. His eyes no longer looked sunken in, and his hair was even longer, hanging far below his shoulders now. He sighed and returned to the bedroom, climbing into the bed.  
Instead of quickly falling asleep as he hoped he’d be able to do, he stared at the ceiling for over an hour, wondering if he could have done something different that would have led him to see his family before they died. He had been thinking about his mother and sister the entire day, for no particular reason other than he missed them. This train of thought saddened Harry almost immediately, and he tried to force himself to sleep to escape the thought.   
When he did fall asleep, it was only to wake from a new nightmare. He hadn’t witnessed the death of his sister and mother in real life, but in his dream he had, and Harry woke up with tears running down his cheeks. He hugged one of the pillows tightly to his chest to ease his loneliness. It hardly soothed him.  
Once he stifled his quiet sobs, he found himself in Louis’ room, climbing into bed beside the sleeping man, and hoping not to disturb him. This hardly worked, either. Louis rolled over to face Harry, his eyebrows furrowed.  
“What is it, love? Another nightmare?” Harry nodded. “Come here, I’ve got you. It was a dream. It’s alright.”   
Louis pulled Harry into his chest, and Harry began to cry again.  
“I just want it to stop,” Harry admitted weakly, “Just make it stop, please.”  
“Make what stop, love?”  
“Everything!” Harry cried, “I just want to be happy. You’ve done so much for me and all you get in return is me crying, and I want it to end! I want my parents to be alive. I want to have never met Jack. I want to forget about Zoloto vezuchiy. I just want to be happy, Louis, and every time I fall asleep I wake up crying and I hate it.” Harry explained sadly, “I just want to be happy.”  
Louis didn’t respond for a moment. He tilted Harry’s head up to face his own, and looked him in the eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows at the younger boy, his hands framing Harry’s tear stained face. Harry shrunk away from the intense gaze, uncomfortable.  
“Do you still want to die, Harry?” Harry shrugged. “Harry, love, do you still want to die?” Harry hesitated. Did he? He certainly wasn’t enjoying life. It was one unfortunate incident after another. “I need you to answer me, love. I can’t do anything if you don’t talk to me.”  
“What else could you possibly do?” Harry asked sadly, “You’ve done everything.”  
“Well, I’m sure there’s more that can be done, but I can’t do anything at all if you don’t talk to me, Harry, love.”  
“Sometimes.”  
Harry knew that sometimes he was almost happy. Making Kris Kringle, and playing with Baby Ben, and even watching movies with Louis—those were good things. He was happy then.  
“Only sometimes?” Louis asked.  
“Only sometimes.”  
Louis nodded slowly.  
“Because of the nightmares?”  
Harry shook his head.  
“Because of Jack, and the Russians, and my mum, and Gemma,” Harry said, pausing. “And the nightmares.”  
“We’ll make all of that go away, alright?” Harry looked skeptically at Louis. Was that possible? Could Louis find a way to make him forget everything that had happened that fall? He doubted any voodoo dolls or hypnosis would be able to eradicate such a traumatic experience. “I’m not saying I can make it disappear as if it never happened, but we’ll do what we can to stop the nightmares, and then we can work on the memories. I’ll get you closure on Jack if it kills me.”  
“Alright.” Harry whispered.  
He had no reason not to trust Louis. Perhaps Louis could make it all go away.  
Louis nodded once, brushed Harry’s hair from his face, and pulled him in tightly to his chest so that the two were nose to nose under the covers.  
“Alright. Now, the nightmares. Do you have them every night, or just some nights?”  
“Some nights.”  
It was partially a lie. He had them almost every night. In fact, he could reasonably say that he did have them every night, and on occasion he would just forget his dream when he woke up.  
“Don’t they go away when you come in here?” Harry nodded slowly. “Well, why don’t we get you situated in here with me, and that way the nightmares won’t keep coming. I’m warding them off just by you being here, I think, so we can fix that problem right now.”  
Harry shook his head.  
“I can’t do that, it’s not fair to you.”  
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t alright with it, love, you know that.” Harry hesitated. “We can do a trial run. If it isn’t going well after a few days, we can reconsider. How does that sound?”  
This, Harry could agree to.  
“But if it doesn’t work, we’ll find something else,” Harry insisted.  
“Alright, that sounds fair enough.” Louis shrugged. “We should try to get some sleep. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, and we’ll need to get you re-enrolled in Uni, too.”  
Harry nodded and tucked his head under Louis’ chin, welcoming the warming embrace Louis offered. It was silent for a moment.  
“Thank you, Lou.”  
“I’d do anything for you, love, you don’t need to thank me.”

As expected, Harry slept soundly for the rest of the night. He didn’t even wake when Louis escaped to get breakfast—he left a note on the fridge, and ran down to the nearest bakery to get something sweet. When he returned, Harry was still asleep, so he left the bag of chocolate croissants on the counter, and took a seat in the living room.   
The clock read half past seven, and Louis was deep into the Hemmings’ report, checking details and adjusting as necessary. He was about to call the Detective when Harry wandered out of the bedroom.   
“Morning.”  
“Morning,” Harry yawned.   
“How’d you sleep?”  
“Much better.”  
“That’s good.”  
Harry nodded. He took a seat beside Louis on the sofa. The two of them sat facing each other, their knees pulled into their chests.  
“What are you working on?”  
“Stuff for the case,” Louis replied, closing his computer. “It’s pretty boring.”  
“What exactly is your plan?” Harry wondered.  
Louis shrugged and set his computer on the coffee table.  
“If I had one I’d tell you.” He replied.   
“Oh?”  
“I think I’m in a bit of a rut. We were going to just trap Jack, but right now that’s not an option, because he’s our only way into the Russian group, which seems to be much bigger.”  
“It is,” Harry mumbled.  
“I know.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault,” Louis shifted in his seat, “We’re waiting for a call from Jack, and then we’ll decide if we want to shut him down, or if there’s another option.”  
“Another call?”  
Louis hesitated before replying.  
“He’s got a kid there, just like you and Luke, and we can’t do anything about it until he calls. It’ll blow our cover completely.”  
Harry frowned, pulling his knees closer to his chest.  
“It’s different from how it was with you, love. We didn’t have any form of surveillance in his house at the time. We do now, but we have to treat the situation the same. If he doesn’t call, we can’t act.”  
“How long has he been there?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer.   
This had to be the same kid from Christmastime.   
“A while. It’s eating at me, knowing that’s happening but not being able to stop it.”  
Harry shuddered.  
“There have to be other options. You can’t just leave him there.”  
“If we arrest him now, we lose our link to the Russians, and we can’t help anyone else,” Louis explained, “It’s not just a matter of getting the one kid, it’s about helping hundreds of kids.”  
Harry thought for a moment. He agreed with Louis that there had to be long term plans put in place, but he couldn’t sit by while this kid, whoever he was, had to go through everything that he himself had dealt with.  
“What if you call and ask him if he has anyone there?” Harry offered.  
“I’ve never done it before.”  
“There’s a first time for everything, right? You could try.”  
Harry sat upright.  
“What if he lies, Harry? Do I just say, ‘oh, alright’ and hang up? He’d still have that poor kid.”  
“You…you could ask him where the kid came from. I mean you could say that if he doesn’t want to give this kid to you right now, he could tell you who he buys from, and then you’ll maybe be able to get in touch with the Russians, and you could stop Jack, and—”  
“Harry, Harry stop.” Louis interrupted. He moved to sit beside Harry, a hand on the younger boy’s knee. “These are good ideas, really, they are, but we just can’t jump into anything that quickly. We would get in contact with the Russian dealers, and then what? We would know nothing about them, and they seem to already know about us.”  
“They do?”  
“Honestly, Harry, love, we’re pretty sure they’re responsible for the fire that killed your mother and sister.”  
“What?”  
“That’s why we’re keeping all of you in safe houses,” Louis explained, “So we’re treading very carefully here. We can’t step in with the Russians until we have more information on them. But what we can do is call Jack and see what he says about giving us the kid he has now.”  
“Then do that.”  
“I need to call Watson first. There are logistical things to work out. I’m not sure where we should have him stay,” Louis paused, “Usually I stay at Chez-Lou with them until they can go home, but I wouldn’t want to drag you back there.” Louis sighed. “Let me call Watson, and we can sort this out.”  
Louis pecked Harry on the cheek. Harry flinched away, and Louis jumped up from the sofa immediately. He swore and looked down at Harry who closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart was pounding in his ears and he knew Louis was staring at him which made him even more uncomfortable. He was furious with himself that that had been his reaction to Louis. He had the right to be scared of anything of that nature after what had happened, but Louis was nothing but kind to Harry. He felt guilty. It was harmless, and now it made Harry want to curl into a ball and disappear.   
"I'm sorry." He mumbled, covering his face with his hands.   
He leaned forwards onto his knees and stared at the ground. It was just a harmless peck on the cheek. He needed to calm down.   
"Don't be sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Louis said quickly.  
"No, I'm," Harry paused, "I'm glad you did."  
Was he? He knew he trusted Louis, and wanted to be comfortable around Louis, but did he really want to be kissed? Probably not. Louis hardly looked like he believed Harry.  
"You are? That was completely unprofessional. Entirely inappropriate, not to mention, I totally undermined your trust. I can't believe I just did that. I'm so sorry."  
Louis furrowed his eyebrows and looked intently at Harry, who shied away from his stare.   
"Yeah, I guess I am. You're too good for me. That was good for me."   
It was true, but he said it more to convince himself than to convince Louis. Louis shook his head.  
"Good for you?"  
Louis was clearly taken aback. Harry didn't blame him.   
"Mmhm. I can't hide inside myself forever, can I?"   
Harry still wasn't looking at Louis. He stared at his feet, scrunching his toes into the carpet.  
"No you can't, but that wasn't the way to change that."  
Louis toed at the ground.   
"Were you trying to change that?" Harry asked. Louis didn't respond. "Well, were you?"  
"No," Louis replied, "No I wasn't."  
"I don't think I'd be mad even if you were. I was just surprised."   
Harry looked up at Louis then. The elder of the two wore a concerned expression as he gazed down at Harry.   
"I'm sorry." He repeated.   
Harry nodded.   
"I know. You don't have to be."  
Louis sighed.   
"I'm going to call Watson now. Maybe go for a walk. You want to come?"  
"Yeah. I'll come with. Let me change really quickly."   
"Are you sure?"  
Harry stood up.   
"Yeah. It's fine, Louis, don't worry about it."  
Harry walked into the bedroom and tugged off his shirt. He tossed it to the side and dug in his suitcase for something to replace it with, deciding on a navy blue shirt with hearts on it. Louis might appreciate the irony, he thought, as he buttoned it up, and pulled on a pair of dark skinny jeans and boots. He took the pea coat from the hook on the back of the bedroom door, and walked back out to the kitchen. Louis was on the phone with the Detective.  
“No, Harry’s right, it wouldn’t hurt to call—no, I’m not talking about getting in contact with the Russian’s don’t be stupid, I meant call about the boy,” Louis paused, waiting for the Detective’s reply. He was standing in the kitchen, now dressed in a coat of his own, along with a beanie. He had a chocolate croissant in his hand, and he took a bite as he listened to the phone. “Yes, well I still need your approval to do that. If he admits to having the kid, we have a few options.” He paused again. “That’s what I’m calling about. I can’t keep lugging Harry around wherever I go, and I’m not sure how wise it would be to keep the poor kid alone at Chez-Lou, and I don’t really see another option.” The Detective spoke for a long stretch, and Harry took a croissant from the bag in front of Louis. Louis held up a finger to signal that he was nearly done talking to the Detective. “That sounds reasonable. Are you confident that it’s a good idea? Yes? Alright, we’ll try that. Thank you.”  
Louis hung up.  
“What’s the plan?” Harry asked.  
“We’re going to give Jack a call, and see what he says, and if he admits he has the kid, we’ll call in Calum or Michael to help pick him up. You’ll stay here, of course.” Louis grabbed his keys. “Shall we go?”  
“Don’t you want to call him first?”  
“I don’t want to run the risk of him tracking the signal back here. He’s well aware I live in the area, it’s not much of a secret, but my exact location is my business. I was thinking we could head to the park.”  
Harry nodded, “Alright.”

When the two arrived at the park they took to a park bench so that Louis could make the call.  
“I’m going to call him now,” Louis said slowly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”  
“When I talk to Jack I have to keep the pretense that I’m genuinely purchasing these people for my bidding, not to help them. Half of what I say to convince him of that is pretty awful.”  
“I remember.” Harry said quietly. “You said it to me, too. I was convinced you were worse than he was.”  
Louis sighed, “I’m sorry. I never meant to scare you.”  
“It’s alright, don’t worry.”  
“If you’re sure.”  
Harry nodded, and Louis dialed the number. He listened as it rang.  
“Hello?” Harry heard Jack on the other end of the line.  
“It’s Louis.”   
Louis’ voice was harsh, cold. It reminded Harry very clearly of his first encounter with Louis.   
“Is the kid giving you trouble? Look, Louis, it isn’t my problem. You paid, now he’s your responsibility. If you don’t like him, get rid of him.”  
“Shockingly enough with some proper training, they’re not as disobedient as they were with you. That’s not why I’m calling.” Louis sneered.  
“What do you want?”  
Louis swallowed.  
“What I want is another one. I was wondering if you’ve gotten any more in since the last set.”  
“I’ve sold you half a dozen of them in the last month, what’re you doing with them?” Jack growled.  
“It’s none of your business what I do with them, but if you must know, they’re great entertainment at house parties. It’s always fun to see which one cries first when we play pin the tail on the slave, but you can only play so many times.” Louis grimaced and shook his head. “Now, I asked if you had any others. I have other suppliers, but they’re never as good as the ones you sell, and I’m looking to buy right now.” Jack didn’t respond. “Well? I don’t have all day, and the longer you keep me waiting the less I want to pay you.”  
“I’ve got one, but I quite like him.”  
“What’s he going to cost me?” Louis asked.  
“He’s selling really well right now. Lots of people are interested, you know. I’ve turned them all down.”  
“I said what’s he going to cost me. I need a new toy, and I want to buy from you.”  
“A mil.”  
Louis stood up, shocked. Harry stared at him curiously, and he sat back down.  
“A million pounds? This boy is worth a million pounds to you?”  
“No, but that’s what I want for him.”  
“Try ten thousand pounds, no one on earth is giving you a million pounds for your latest used up boy toy, Jack, be realistic.”  
“Well I don’t want to sell you my latest boy toy, Louis, so take it or leave it.”  
“I gave you a tenth of that for three in one go. What does this boy have that’s so valuable?”  
“Take it or leave it.”  
Louis growled.  
“A hundred thousand pounds.”  
“Nine hundred thousand.”  
“Two hundred thousand and you can move out of that shitty house of yours.”  
“Four hundred and we have a deal.”  
“Fine.”  
“When are you able to get him?”  
“How soon can I have him?”  
“In an hour. He’s on a job. You can pick him up there if you want.”  
“Where is he?”  
“A resort just a ways out of London. I can send you the address.”  
“Fine. Send me the information. I’ll send you the money.”  
Louis ended the phone call abruptly and looked to Harry.   
“So?”  
“This is…different. Good, but different. And bloody expensive, holy Hell. I’m going to call Calum. He’s better suited for this. You and Michael can hang out at the office until we get back.”  
“I want to come with you.”  
“Harry—”  
“No, I want to come. Let me come.”  
“That could be really triggering. We have to arrest the John, and we have no idea what we’re going to walk into. There’s going to be a lot of adrenaline, and you’re going to be overwhelmed. Are you positive?”  
“I’m positive.”  
“Alright, then. I’ll tell Calum to come pick us up.”  
Louis looked down at his phone and quickly starts tapping the screen.   
“Where is he?”  
“Who? Calum or the kid?”  
“Both, I suppose.”  
Louis pockets his phone, and the two start walking.   
“Calum is on his way, and should be here in about five minutes. Michael’s taking a second car over to the hotel now. The kid is at the Connaught. Jack said his name is Ashton. Are you sure you want to come, love?”  
Harry nodded.  
“I want to help.”  
“I know you do, love. I just worry that it’ll do you more harm than good. Since you’re confident that you want to help, we should probably go over what’s going to happen when we get there.”  
“Alright.”  
“First of all, there’s going to be a police officer—possibly Watson, whoever Michael decided to bring—that’s going to make the actual arrest once we extract Ashton. We can’t be sure of what Ashton and the John will be doing when we enter. I don’t want you in the area for that. You’ll stand to the side with Michael—no buts, I’m not having you anywhere near that kind of situation again, don’t fight me on this one, love.”  
Louis’ play-by-play of the entire situation lasted until Calum picked them up, and almost the entire way to the hotel. They pulled up to the building twenty minutes later, and Harry looked wide-eyed at the main door. He had been there before, several times.  
“I remember this place,” he murmured.  
Louis swore.  
“Of course you do. How did I not think of that? Are you sure you still want to do this?”  
“I’m not backing down, Louis, I’m coming.”  
“Well, here we go, then.” Calum said as he cut the engine.   
They climbed from the car and walked into the hotel lobby, steering towards Michael and the officer.  
“Harry, mate, how’re you doing?” Michael asked.  
“’M alright.”  
“Shall we?” Louis offered, pointing to the elevators.  
Ashton was on the sixth floor. Just high enough to be out of the way, but just low enough to seem innocent and harmless. Harry stood in the corner of the elevator, tapping his fingers against the cool metal rail that wound around the inside of the box. The officer led the way, walking just ahead of Louis, who was followed by Calum, while Michael and Harry walked side by side. When they reached the door, the officer stepped to the side, allowing Louis to stand in front of the wooden door. Harry and Michael fell back, waiting. The knock sounded through the hallway, adding to Harry’s unease, but he watched the door eagerly. His heart pounding, and his palms sweating.   
“Uh, room service.” Louis said, glancing at Calum who shrugged.  
“Come in.” A voice called from within the room.  
Louis opened the door slowly, and entered, followed by Calum. Harry listened carefully to the conversation, bearing in mind that he wasn’t meant to be seen. The conversation was quiet, but loud enough for Harry to hear.  
“What’s wrong with him?” Calum asked.  
“He’s ill. Can I help you?”  
“We’re here for Ashton.” Louis stated flatly.  
“Oh.” There was a pause. “I thought I had him until two.”  
“Plans change.” That was Calum.  
“You don’t have to pay for your time. We’ll take him.” Louis.  
“He’s resting. Can you come back?”  
“He’s done resting now,” Calum replied.  
“Wait, hang on a minute,” the stranger said, his voice raised slightly.  
“What part of your time’s up are you not following?” Calum said coldly.  
“He’s resting, just let him sleep.” It was quiet for a moment and the officer stepped into the room. “Hey, hang on, what the hell is going on?”  
Harry moved to stand in the doorway, curious to know what was happening.  
“You’re under arrest for prostitution and assisting in the trafficking of a minor.” The officer said as he handcuffed the John.  
“What? I wasn’t doing either of those things, Ashton can tell you that when he wakes up,” the John pleaded, “Hey, listen to me! I’m telling the truth, here. Please, the poor kid just needs to sleep.”  
The officer moved the John to the doorway so that Louis and Calum had a clear path to the bed, where Harry could see a sleeping figure, Ashton, curled under the blankets. Harry was wary of the John, but didn’t move, knowing the officer had control of the situation.  
Louis walked over to the bed and kneeled beside it.  
“Ashton?” He said quietly, “I need you to wake up for me, buddy.” Ashton stirred. Harry assumed he was startled by Louis, because the boy jumped up, scooting away until he was on the far edge of the bed.   
“What’s going on? Who are you?” Ashton demanded.  
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you.” Louis said, raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Look,” he pointed behind Ashton to Calum and the John. Ashton swung his head around to see the group of people behind him, then spun around to face Louis again. Fear was evident on his face, and Louis nodded, “They’re not going to hurt you either. My name’s Louis. I work with the police, and I’m going to get you out of here, alright?”  
“What’s going on?”  
“Why don’t you just come with me, and we can talk in the lobby. How does that sound? Is that alright with you?”  
Ashton looked between the John and Louis several times.  
“These are good people, Ashton,” the John said gently, “They want to help you.”   
Harry’s head snapped to face the John, his eyebrows furrowing. What kind of sleazy pedophile sides with the police? He glared at the John and returned his attention to Ashton, his expression softening. Harry knew exactly how it felt to be where Ashton was. He wished he could tell the boy that.  
“He’s right, we’re just here to help. That’s Officer Hood right there,” Calum waved, “and Officer Crewe. Behind them is my friend Harry.” Harry waved as well, smiling. “He’s not an Officer, but he’s very nice.”  
“Crewe and I are going to take this guy out to the car. Michael will drive you guys whenever you’re ready to go.” Calum said.   
He turned to leave, and the officer and the John followed. Harry stepped to the side to let them pass.  
“Will you come to the lobby with me, Ashton? We just want to help.”  
Michael stepped into the doorway beside Harry, nudging him into the room, so that the two of them as well as Louis could be in Ashton’s frame of vision.  
“Who’s that?” Ashton asked, pointing to Michael.  
“That’s Officer Clifford, he’s here to protect you as well.” Michael waved. “Can you tell me how old you are, Ashton?”  
“Sixteen.” Ashton mumbled.  
“And can you tell me your last name?”  
“Irwin.”  
“Very good. Alright then, Ashton Irwin, let’s get you your shoes, and we can go downstairs.”  
Harry noticed the shoes by his feet, and carried them over to Ashton, who watched Harry carefully. Harry set the shoes on the bed beside Ashton, and returned to where he was standing next to Michael.   
“Thank you, Harry,” Louis smiled.  
Ashton took his shoes and slid them onto his feet.  
“What’s going to happen?” Ashton asked quietly.  
“We’re going to go down to the lobby and get you something to eat, and you can tell me about what happened. Is that alright with you?”  
“O-Okay.” 

Ashton’s family was alive and well. It was a miracle. Louis ordered patrol to be stationed outside the Irwin household indefinitely, but he was hesitant to allow Ashton to stay at home. There didn’t seem to be a better option than that, so Louis relented. It was all fine by Harry, who was pleased that the boy had been rescued, and was even more pleased to hear that the John had, in fact, been telling the truth about helping Ashton. Harry climbed into bed that night smiling, tucked in beside Louis.  
“Thank you for helping him,” Harry murmured.  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, love. It’s my job.”  
“Do you think anything is going to happen to him?”  
“I honestly don’t know,” Louis admitted, pulling the blankets up to his chin, “But, I’m going to do everything in my power to keep him and his family safe.”  
“You’re a really good person, Lou.”  
“I’m just doing my job.”  
“Yes, but no one says that to accountants.”  
Louis chuckled.  
“I suppose you’re right about that.”  
It was quiet for a moment, and Harry rolled to his side to face Louis.  
“Louis?”  
“Yes, love?”  
“Remember the day at the hotel, when you told me that you would never want anything from me, in that way?”  
Louis frowned.  
“I do,” He said slowly.  
“Did you mean it?”  
“Of course I did, Harry, love. What brought this up?”  
“Nothing, I was just thinking.”


	10. Reports

DALTON TOMLINSON  
V-02  
Dalton Tomlinson, M  
Age: 18 (Deceased)  
Captive: 2mo  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 6w  
Family: Father Deceased, Mother remarried.   
From: Doncaster, England  
Height: 162cm  
Weight: 44kg  
Hair: Brown   
Race: White  
Eyes: Blue  
Other: N/A

Victim found in a second story motel room at Motel 22 on South St, deceased. Victim had bruising and scarring across the body. Evidence shows victim was underfed and physically weak. While at Warrington, victim was kept in solitude unless working.   
When retrieved, victim was moved to the London Morgue for further examination. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline, fresh. Upon further examination, evidence of sexual assault and abuse were found. John described victim as “scared” and “tired.”   
On June 21, 2008, local police responded to an emergency at Motel 22 on South Street, in London. Inside officers found a John, and Tomlinson, whom they suspected of being underage. Tomlinson was pronounced dead at the scene (14:37), and was moved to the London Morgue for identification and further investigation. Dental records identified the body as Dalton Tomlinson, and the family was contacted immediately. Investigation revealed that Tomlinson went missing on 2 May 2008. Jack Fehler took Tomlinson into his home on 8 May 2008 until June 20, 2008. No charges were pressed against Fehler, as there was insufficient proof linking him to the kidnapping and serial rape of Tomlinson.   
The investigation was closed to the public under the claim that Tomlinson was found deceased due to an overdose of sleeping pills. The John was not charged. The Investigation of Jack Fehler continued by Tomlinson’s older brother, Private Investigator Louis Tomlinson. Officer Tomlinson contacted Fehler, which lead to an undercover operation to extract victims from Fehler under the guise of a trafficking ring. Further information on Tomlinson could not be retrieved. Officer Tomlinson discovered Fehler to be in transaction with an unnamed Russian trafficking ring. Fehler began to sell purchased victims to Officer Tomlinson.   
Money used in the transactions involving Perrie Edwards (22) and Liam Payne (19) was tracked to a Russian account, but information on the money’s whereabouts could not be gathered.

PERRIE EDWARDS  
V-02  
Perrie Edwards, F  
Age: 22  
Captive: Four years  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 1yr.  
Family: Parents are married.   
From: South Shields, England  
Height: 160cm  
Weight: 47kg  
Hair: Medium, Blonde   
Race: White  
Eyes: Blue  
Other: Nasal Piercing.

Victim was kept in dark and cold room, naked, and alone. Evidence shows that victim was underfed and physically weak. While at Warrington, victim was kept in solitude for the majority of time. When retrieved, victim was hesitant to go with Tomlinson, resulting in Jack hitting the victim into cooperation.  
Victim arrived at Chez-Lou with major scaring and bruising, but no other injuries. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline. Victim to sexual assault at Warrington, upon further examination, evidence of sexual assault was found. Victim refused to comment.   
On the evening of August 2, 2008, Officer Louis Tomlinson arrived undercover at Warrington to retrieve Edwards. During retrieval, Edwards refused to accompany Tomlinson to the vehicle. Fehler was angered by this hesitation, and hit Edwards into cooperation. Tomlinson, still undercover, was unable to intervene. Once in the vehicle, Tomlinson explained to Edwards the situation. Immediate care for Edwards began in the vehicle, and upon arrival at Chez-Lou a doctor performed a physical examination.   
Contact to the Edwards family was done with haste, and the family booked travels to visit the following day and conduct interviews. Interviews with Edwards’ mother revealed that Edwards went missing in January of 2004. Edwards told officials that she had originally been kidnapped while walking home from work. After years in captivity, Jack Fehler took her into his home on New Year’s Eve of 2007 while Edwards was working as a waitress in a casino. Edwards was with Fehler until Tomlinson’s retrieval at Warrington. No charges were pressed against Fehler. Edwards refused to comment on details of the kidnapping.  
Money used in the transactions involving Perrie Edwards was tracked to a Russian account, but information on the money’s whereabouts could not be gathered.

INT. Where were you at the time of your abduction?  
P.E. I was on my way home from work.   
INT. Where did you work?  
P.E. At the coffee shop, “Joe’s,” by my house.   
INT. Were you kidnapped by Jack Fehler?  
P.E. No, it was someone else. There were two of them, and they didn’t speak English, I don’t think—whatever language they talked in, that’s the language my tattoo is in, too. Not sure what it means, but they made me get one on my neck.  
INT. When did you first interact with Jack [Fehler]?   
P.E. The people who took me were having me work at the casino they owned. I think it was in Russia. It sounded kind of like Russian to me, anyways. Jack was there, and he paid to take me home, and I never came back.   
INT. Were you ever alone with Jack [Fehler]?  
P.E. He kept me down in that basement. I don’t know if anyone else was ever there. I never saw anyone.  
INT. What did you do while you were with him?  
P.E. Pretty much the same as what I did for the other people, but I stayed in that basement, or Jack would take me to a hotel and I would stay there for the night then come back.   
INT. How were you treated while with Jack?  
P.E. Some of them were nicer than others.  
INT. Would you elaborate?  
P.E. I mean I had to do whatever they said, and some of the time they were rougher than others.  
INT. Was Jack ever rough with you.  
P.E. [nods]  
INT. Would you elaborate on that as well?  
P.E. You saw the pictures. He got what he wanted or he hit me until I gave him what he wanted. What more do you want me to say?  
INT. You didn’t want to go with [Louis] Tomlinson. Why is that?  
P.E. Jack was worse than the people before him. All he told me about Officer Tomlinson was that he was meaner than anyone he had ever met, and that no one had ever seen anyone that Officer Tomlinson has bought. I was scared.

LIAM PAYNE  
V-03  
Liam Payne, M  
Age: 19  
Captive: Two Years  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 3mo.  
Family: Two older sisters, Parents are married.   
From Wolverhampton, England.   
Height: 180cm  
Weight: 54kg  
Hair: Short, Light Brown  
Race: White  
Eyes: Brown  
Other: Birthmark on neck, damaged kidney.

While at Warrington, victim remembered isolation. Contact was only made for feeding and bathing. Room was dark and cold. When retrieved, victim was naked and covered in filth.   
Victim initially fought Tomlinson upon rescue. Arrived at Chez-Lou with significant scarring, no visible bruising, and a newly broken tibia (victim estimated two days before rescue). No otherwise lasting injuries sustained. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline. Upon examination, sexual assault was evident, but the victim refused to comment on details of said assault. Victim recalled long periods of starvation while in solitude. The emaciated body of the victim showed signs of severe malnutrition.   
Officer Louis Tomlinson arrived undercover at Warrington to retrieve Payne on the night of February 9, 2009. Payne showed aggression towards Tomlinson upon retrieval and refused cooperation despite severe previous injuries. Tomlinson used necessary force to coerce Payne into entering the vehicle. While in the vehicle, Tomlinson explained to Payne the situation, and assessed injuries. Payne admitted to having provoked Fehler two days prior leading to a broken left tibia. Upon arrival at Chez-Lou a doctor performed a physical examination and set the broken limb in a cast. Payne refused to comment on details of his kidnapping, stating only that he had been brought to Fehler several months prior to his rescue. This transaction was against the victim’s will, Payne stated, but was “inevitably better than being with [the Russian organization].”  
The Payne family was contacted to conduct interviews and collect Payne. No charges were pressed against Fehler.   
Money used in the transactions involving Liam Payne was tracked to a Russian account, but information on the money’s whereabouts could not be gathered.

INT. Where were you at the time of your abduction?  
LP. I couldn’t tell you.  
INT. Why is that?  
LP. It was around two years ago. I must’ve been out of the house, though.  
INT. Were you kidnapped by Jack Fehler?  
LP. No.  
INT. Who abducted you?  
LP. I don’t know.  
INT. Did the people who abducted you give you a tattoo?  
LP. Yeah, they did. It’s on the back of my neck. It says Zoloto but I don’t know what it means.  
INT. When did you first interact with Jack [Fehler]?   
LP. The people who took me—there was one man who treated me like his pet, or something—decided to get rid of me. I don’t know why, since they didn’t speak English. All I did was obey them to the best of my abilities, but the man got bored or something, and sold me to Jack.   
INT. Were you ever alone with Jack [Fehler]?  
LP. He left me in a basement, and that was all I ever saw of the house.  
INT. What did you do while you were with him?  
LP. I would do whatever Jack told me to do, or I would do what the other people told me to do. You have to do what you have to do. If I didn’t he would hit me.   
INT. Is that how you got your broken leg?  
LP. He got what he wanted or he got angry. There was only so much I could do to protect myself. If I misspoke, he’d get angry. I was tired and didn’t address him as “Sir,” and he shoved me down the stairs into the basement. He didn’t come back for me until he sold me to Louis.  
INT. You didn’t want to go with [Louis] Tomlinson.  
LP. Jack described Louis as a monster of a human. I was fearful of what life with him would be like, considering Jack was already worse than my worst nightmare.   
INT. You fought Tomlinson when he tried to rescue you.  
LP. He was undercover. I didn’t know he was trying to help. Like I said, I had to do what I had to do to protect myself. Obviously I was weaker, and he eventually got me into the car, but I didn’t initially want to go with him.  
ELEANOR CALDER  
V-05  
Eleanor Calder, F  
Age: 23  
Captive: One month  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 2wks.  
Family: None.   
From: London, England  
Height: 175cm  
Weight: 54kg  
Hair: Medium, Dark Brown   
Race: Multiracial  
Eyes: Brown  
Other: None.

Victim recalls extended periods of isolation at Warrington. When retrieved, victim was naked. Victim was physically weak.  
Arrived at Chez-Lou with no noticeable physical injuries, but fought rescue. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline. Resisted rescue by Tomlinson. Victim had no signs of sexual abuse, mental or physical.   
Tomlinson escorted Calder from the Warrington estate the evening of May 26, 2009. Following this retrieval, Fehler did not contact Tomlinson for another retrieval for ten months due to being on parole for possession of illegal substances. 

INT. Where were you at the time of your abduction?  
EC. Either at a party or with the guy I went home with.  
INT. When was that?  
EC. A few weeks ago.  
INT. Were you kidnapped by Jack Fehler?  
EC. No, I don’t think so. Jack took me in a couple weeks ago.  
INT. Who abducted you?  
EC. I don’t know who they were but they made me get a tattoo on my neck, which was kind of weird.  
INT. When did you first interact with Jack [Fehler]?   
EC. I was kept in a room for a few weeks—it was nice and all, but it was still like a prison cell—and then one day Jack walked in and made me go with him.   
INT. Were you ever alone with Jack [Fehler]?  
EC. He left me in a basement and I think he almost forgot about me or something because he didn’t feed me very often.  
INT. What did you do while you were with him?  
EC. Nothing. He just left me alone in that room pretty much all of the time. Then he sold me to Louis.   
INT. Why did he sell you to Tomlinson?  
EC. I don’t know. I guess he was bored of me?   
INT. You didn’t want to go with [Louis] Tomlinson.  
EC. Jack was worse than the people before him, so it was only fair to think Louis would be worse than Jack.  
INT. You fought Tomlinson when he tried to rescue you.  
EC. Well, yeah. I thought he was going to treat me worse than Jack did, and the circumstances were poor enough as it was, I didn’t want to make them any worse by willingly going along with that. I didn’t know Louis was trying to help. If I had known that, I would’ve jumped into his arms.

NIALL HORAN  
V-06  
Niall Horan, M  
Age: 20  
Captive: Six months  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 1mo.  
Family: One older brother, parents are divorced.   
From: Mullingar, Ireland  
Height: 176cm  
Weight: 50kg  
Hair: Short, Dark Brown   
Race: White  
Eyes: Blue  
Other: None.

Victim recalls extended periods of isolation and starvation at Warrington, dotted with contact only made for feeding and bathing. Room was dark and cold. When retrieved, victim was naked and covered in filth, as per the other victims. Victim was physically weak, attributed to malnutrition.  
Arrived at Chez-Lou with no scarring, bruising, or other injuries, but resisted rescue by Tomlinson. Tattoo on back of neck at hairline. Victim admitted to unwelcomed sexual intercourse with men brought into the room at Warrington, but upon further examination, evidence of sexual assault wasn’t found. Victim attributes this to “gentle” attackers, and long periods with no interaction. Victim refused specific details of said assaults.   
On March 8, 2010, Tomlinson arrived at Warrington in response to a call from Fehler requesting a sale of a Mr. Niall Horan, who, upon retrieval, was agitated and suffering from malnutrition. Tomlinson requested that Horan accompany him to the vehicle, but Horan, visibly fearful, refused to obey Tomlinson. Following a “tedious but successful attempt” to calm Horan, Tomlinson brought the victim to the vehicle for transportation to Chez-Lou. Interviews were conducted in the vehicle, and physical examinations were conducted upon arrival at the estate. The Horan family was contacted the following day, and Horan was brought home the day following that.   
Interviews revealed that Horan went missing on September 13 2009. The unnamed Russian organization sold Horan to Jack Fehler on February 1, 2010, and Horan was in Fehler’s captivity until March 8, 2010. No charges were pressed against Fehler at the time.

INT. Where were you at the time of your abduction?  
NH. I was out celebrating my birthday with my friends. Someone must’ve spiked my drink, because I only remember part of the night, and nothing after that.  
INT. When was that?  
NH. My birthday. September.  
INT. Were you kidnapped by Jack Fehler?  
NH. No, it was someone else, I believe.  
INT. Who abducted you?  
NH. They didn’t speak English, so if they told me any useful information, I don’t know what it was. I think they were talking in Russian, if that helps at all.  
INT. When did you first interact with Jack [Fehler]?   
NH. Well I was kept with this one group of men for a long time. They gave me a tattoo. Says something like Zoloto. Not sure if I’m saying it right, but it’s something they said a lot. Like I said, they don’t speak English, so I don’t know who they were, but I know what they wanted. At some point they got bored, or they found someone new—I don’t know. They gave me to Jack.   
INT. Were you ever alone with Jack [Fehler]?  
NH. A few times.  
INT. What did you do while you were with him?  
NH. Nothing I’m going to tell you about. Most of the time he left me alone, or had someone else come into the basement to do stuff. It wasn’t really some violent thing, but you’re crazy if you think I liked it. I just wasn’t beaten to a pulp, which is good. He had a temper, so he got mad at me a lot. I guess at some point he got bored of me like the other people.   
INT. You didn’t want to go with [Louis] Tomlinson.  
NH. He was scary. All I knew about him was what Jack had told me, which was the lie that Louis would kill everyone he bought. Of course that’s not true, but I didn’t know that.  
INT. You fought Tomlinson when he tried to rescue you.  
NH. Wouldn’t you have done the same? I thought I was going to die. I didn’t know that Louis was just trying to help me out.   
   
HARRY STYLES

V-07  
Harry Styles, M  
Age: 18  
Captive: Three months  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 4wks.  
Family: One older sister, parents?   
From: Cheshire, England  
Height: 186cm  
Weight: 60kg  
Hair: Long, Dark Brown   
Race: White  
Eyes: Green  
Other: Dozens of tattoos.

Victim was weary of collection by Tomlinson, but did not refuse rescue. When asked, victim described extended time isolated in basement.  
Victim briefly mentioned nonconsensual intercourse with men brought into the room at Warrington, as well as with men at hotels to whom he was brought by Fehler. Victim refused to comment on specific details.   
Victim was retrieved on December 17, 2011 after Fehler demanded Tomlinson make a purchase. Victim showed signs of malnutrition and abuse, but refused to openly discuss these circumstances. Tomlinson brought the victim to the vehicle for transportation to Chez-Lou, where the victim was given a physical examination and sent to bed.   
Interviews revealed that Styles went missing in August, and the unnamed Russian organization sold Styles to Jack Fehler in November. Styles was in Fehler’s captivity until date of retrieval by Tomlinson. No charges were pressed against Fehler at the time.

INT. Where were you at the time of your abduction?  
HS. I was on my way home from a mate’s.  
INT. When was that?  
HS. The start of the school year. Late August.  
INT. Were you kidnapped by Jack Fehler?  
HS. No.  
INT. Who abducted you?  
HS. A group of Russian men.  
INT. What was your interaction with this group like?  
HS. They made me get a tattoo on my neck that said Zoloto vezuchiy and they kept me in a room, and whenever their boss wanted me, I’d be brought into his room—at least I think it was his room—and then after he was finished I’d be brought back to the first room.  
INT. What happened in these rooms?  
HS. I don’t want to talk about it.  
INT. When did you first interact with Jack [Fehler]?   
HS. I was kept in this room for a while, but eventually the boss got bored of me, I think-I don’t know for sure since he didn’t speak English—and then Jack came and took me.   
INT. Were you ever alone with Jack [Fehler]?  
HS. Yes.  
INT. What did you do while you were with him?  
HS. I don’t want to talk about it. Most of the time he left me alone, or he’d have people pay to come down into the basement he kept me in. You can connect the dots.   
INT. You left willingly with [Louis] Tomlinson.  
HS. All Jack had told me about Louis was that he hadn’t seen any of his previous other victims after selling them to Louis, so I was scared. I thought Louis was going to take me and kill me. Jack kept going on about how I was damaged goods, and all I could think was that it was the end. When he came to take me, I hadn’t eaten in a couple days, and I was weak, so trying to fight him would’ve been pointless. At that point I wasn’t sure if it would be worse to be alive with Jack or dead with Louis, so I just let it happen.  
INT. You admitted to Tomlinson that you had been abused by Fehler.  
HS. Is Fehler Jack’s last name? Yeah, I told Louis that. He asked me if my wrist hurt, and I had handcuffs on up until that point, so there was a bit of a red ring around my wrist. At that point I hadn’t realized Louis was helping me, so I answered him honestly, and told him Jack had kept me handcuffed for a while.   
INT. Why had you been handcuffed?  
HS. Whenever Jack had me in the basement he would handcuff me to the wall so I couldn’t go anywhere. The last time wasn’t the first time.

 

LUKE HEMMINGS

V-08  
Luke Hemmings, M  
Age: 14  
Captive: 24hrs  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 10hrs.  
Family: Deceased   
From: London, England  
Height: 166cm  
Weight: 60kg  
Hair: Blond   
Race: White  
Eyes: Blue  
Other: N/A

Victim and brothers were collected by the Russian organization and transferred almost immediately to Warrington following tattoo tagging.  
Arrived at Chez-Lou healthy. 

INT. Where were you at the time of your abduction?  
LH. I was at home with my brothers.  
INT. When was that?  
LH. Yesterday or the day before.  
INT. Were you kidnapped by Jack Fehler?  
LH. No.  
INT. Who abducted you?  
LH. My brothers say they were Russian but we don’t know who they were.  
INT. What was your interaction with this group like?  
LH. They made me get a tattoo but then they kept me in a room, and then Jack came and then Louis found me.  
INT. Were you ever alone with Jack [Fehler]?  
LH. No, my brothers were always around.  
INT. What did you do while you were with him?  
LH. Nothing at all.   
INT. You did not leave willingly with [Louis] Tomlinson.  
LH. He tried to take me away from my brothers.

 

BECK HEMMINGS

V-09  
Beck Hemmings, M  
Age: 19  
Captive: 24hrs  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 10hrs.  
Family: Deceased   
From: London, England  
Height: 176cm  
Weight: 62kg  
Hair: Blond   
Race: White  
Eyes: Blue  
Other: N/A

Victim and brothers were collected by the Russian organization and transferred almost immediately to Warrington following tattoo tagging.  
Arrived at Chez-Lou healthy.  
JAMES HEMMINGS

V-10  
James Hemmings, M  
Age: 20  
Captive: 24hrs  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 10hrs.  
Family: Deceased   
From: London, England  
Height: 179cm  
Weight: 62kg  
Hair: Blond   
Race: White  
Eyes: Blue  
Other: N/A

Victim and brothers were collected by the Russian organization and transferred almost immediately to Warrington following tattoo tagging.  
Arrived at Chez-Lou healthy.

ASHTON IRWIN

V-11  
Ashton Irwin, M  
Age: 16  
Captive: Six months  
Association with Jack: Held at 17 Warrington St. for approx. 5wks.  
Family: One younger sister, one younger brother, mother  
From: Oxford, England  
Height: 160cm  
Weight: 59kg  
Hair: Long, Light Brown   
Race: White  
Eyes: Green  
Other: N/A.

Victim recalls extended periods of isolation and starvation at Warrington. Victim was discovered via bugs at the Warrington estate, but was rescued due to a call between Tomlinson and Fehler.  
Victim was retrieved from on the job with a John, who willingly made a statement. Victim admitted to unwelcomed sexual intercourse with men brought into the room at Warrington. Victim refused to comment on specific details of said assaults.   
Victim was retrieved on January 26th, 2011 by a team of trained professionals who were prepared to and did make an arrest of any John’s involved.  
In response to a call from Tomlinson to Fehler requesting a sale of a Mr. Ashton Irwin, who, upon retrieval, was sleeping and suffering from malnutrition, Fehler demanded extraordinarily high pay. Irwin was suspicious of Tomlinson and his backup team. Tomlinson calmed the fearful victim and offered to feed him. 

INT. Where were you at the time of your abduction?  
NH. I can’t remember at all.  
INT. Were you kidnapped by Jack Fehler?  
NH. No I wasn’t.  
INT. Who abducted you?  
NH. I dunno. They gave me a tattoo.  
INT. When did you first interact with Jack [Fehler]?   
NH. When he bought me to keeep.   
INT. Were you ever alone with Jack [Fehler]?  
NH. No.


	11. Harry

Harry decided not to reenroll into university, and he and Louis called the university to explain the situation, and make sure Harry had a place at the school the following semester. Following that, Louis took Harry over to visit the Hemmings’, where he made Harry entertain Luke so that Beck and James could talk to Louis. Luke was still very shaken by what had happened, and Harry didn’t know what to do.  
The younger of the two admitted to Harry that he hadn’t told his brothers the full story. The brothers had been ushered into a loud building, but having been blindfolded, he didn’t know where they had been taken. He told Harry how he could hear loud music and shouting, and how it scared him to be so helpless. He told Harry about the room he had been brought into next. It was quiet, aside from his own sniffling, and he had thought he heard other people shuffling around without him truly knowing. He told Harry how he was shoved to the ground, and made to kneel.   
The men who had brought him into the room demanded for him to stay put, and that’s when he started to cry. He no longer had a hand on his shoulder—the only concrete evidence that he wasn’t alone. A minute later he was pushed flat to the ground, pinned there by several pairs of hands. A hand pushed his hair back from his neck and a needle pressed into his neck, making him cry out in pain. He tried to move away, but the hands holding him down were relentless. He couldn’t escape. The needle pressed into his skin again. Repeatedly until he couldn’t bare it any longer. He cried and cried, but the pain didn’t let up. The needle dug into his skin and he begged for it to stop, and then finally it did. Suddenly, the hands were gone. He was alone, face first on the ground. Soon the tears slowed to a stop, and the room fell silent.  
He pulled the blindfold from his eyes. The room was empty. He turned around, and came face to face with a man much older than himself. He wore a suit, and sat in a chair in the corner of the room.  
“Idi syuda.”  
The man pointed to the ground beside his chair. Luke watched, confused.  
“Idi syuda,” the man repeated.   
He pointed again to the ground beside him, and Luke realized what was being asked of him. He stood up hesitantly and took a slow step towards the man.  
“Net. Polzat.”  
Luke couldn’t make sense of that. He wiped the tears from his face.   
“Polzat,” the man said slowly.   
Luke took another step towards the man.  
“Net.”   
Luke knew that word, but he didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He took a step back.  
“Net.”  
He took another step forward.  
“Net.”  
“What do you want from me?” Luke cried helplessly.  
“Polzat.”  
“I don’t know what that means,” Luke whined, “I don’t know what you want, I’m sorry,” he whimpered.  
“Kneel.”   
Luke obeyed.  
“Idi syuda.”  
Again, the man pointed to the ground beside his chair.  
Luke’s eyes widened. Crawl. The man wanted him to crawl. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he disobeyed, so he leaned forward onto his palms. It was only six or seven steps, Luke realized, and he began to crawl slowly towards the chair, shaking with every step. When he was just out of arms reach of the man, he stopped, and leaned back on his heels.   
“Vverk,” the man ordered.  
He gestured for Luke to stand, and Luke could only hope that by doing so he would keep the man from hurting him. He had no idea what was happening to him, but he didn’t dare disobey what he thought the order was. He stood.  
“Khoroshiy mal'chik,” the man said, smiling slightly, “Idi syuda.”  
The man gestured for Luke to step forward. Luke hesitated, and this was his mistake. The man repeated himself, and when Luke didn’t immediately do what he was asked, the man frowned and grabbed his arm, yanking Luke into his lap. Luke yelped, trying to push away, but he was weaker. He was trapped, sitting on the man’s lap.  
“Posmotri na menya,” the man took Luke’s chin in his hand, forcing Luke to face him.  
Luke was terrified. He closed his eyes tightly, trembling in the man’s tight hold.   
“Please,” he begged, “please don’t hurt me, please.”  
“Posmotri na menya,” the man repeated.   
He shook Luke’s chin gently, and Luke opened his eyes. The man stared intently at him, frowning. Every movement was slow and calculated. He turned Luke’s head left to right then released him. Luke watched the man, breath caught in his throat. Luke’s arms wrapped around his waist, hugging himself. He was still shaking. The man brushed Luke’s hair from his eyes, placed his hands on Luke’s waist, and pulled him closer. Luke gasped, hands flying up to catch himself on the man’s shoulder. The man knocked his hands away. He shook his head once, and brought Luke even closer so that their noses were almost touching. Luke didn’t move. The man tilted his head, every move still slow and calculated. He leaned closer, and Luke leaned back.  
“Net.”   
He tried again, and this time Luke didn’t move, accepting the unsolicited kiss from the stranger, but not reciprocating. He stayed as still as possible, hoping that if he didn’t move, the man would give up and let him go.   
He did, pushing Luke off of his lap. Luke stumbled a couple steps back and stared at the man as he stood, brushed off his pants, and left the room. Luke could hear the distinctive click of the lock, and then the room was silent once again.   
Luke stood staring at the door for several minutes in confusion. He couldn’t make sense of what had just happened before the door opened again, a different man entering. The door slammed shut behind this man, who was shorter, and dressed in a dirty t-shirt and jeans that just hid his slight beer belly. He walked right up to Luke and stopped.  
“What’s your name?”   
His voice was deep and commanding, but what resonated most with Luke was that he spoke English.  
“Luke,” Luke said timidly.  
“Your full name.”  
“H-Hemmings. Luke Hemmings.”  
The man nodded and looked Luke up and down.  
“You’re young.” Luke didn’t respond. “But you have brothers, yes?” Luke nodded. “Use your voice.”  
“Yes.”  
“Good boy,” the man said, “Come with me.” The man turned on his heels and began walking to the door again. He stopped, glanced back at Luke—who hadn’t moved—and frowned. “I don’t like repeating myself. Come with me.” Luke followed the man this time.  
“Who are you?” Luke asked timidly as they reached the door.  
“Jack. You can call me Sir.”

Harry was shocked that Luke had divulged all of that information to him, but he understood that he was the best person to tell, as he had gone through nearly the same thing. Granted he had been the only one at the time, and there were dozens of men like the Russian man over the course of the months he was trapped there. Luke told Harry that he never saw the Russian man again, and Harry wasn’t surprised.  
“He was busy a lot of the time,” Harry remembered, “But when he wasn’t, that’s exactly what he was like.”   
“You remember?”  
“I wish I could forget,” Harry replied, “But that’s not the point. Why didn’t you tell your brothers? Why didn’t you tell Louis?”  
“I was so sacred. I am scared.”  
“You don’t need to be scared. Louis’ going to make sure everything’s alright. He’s the best thing that could have ever happened to you, I swear.”  
“Do I have to tell him?”  
Harry shook his head.  
“I didn’t. There are things he’s better off not knowing. He gets the gist of it, which is what matters. If you don’t want to tell him, I don’t think you need to.”  
“Oh.”  
Harry sighed.  
“It’s not going to be perfect, but he’s what we’ve got. Considering the circumstances, I think he’s handling this very well. You know he’s trying to reenroll you in school right now? He doesn’t want you to miss your classes any longer than necessary. I think he’s right about that.”  
“Are you going back to school?”  
“Not yet. I’m not ready.”  
“Why not?”  
Harry shrugged, running a hand through his hair. It was too long now, far past his shoulders.  
“I’ve missed too much to start partway through the year. It’s too messy.”  
“Oh.”  
“You’ve only missed a few weeks. You’ll be alright.”  
“What if I’m not ready?” Luke asked.  
“Are you not ready because you’re scared or are you not ready because you don’t want to go back to school?”  
Luke furrowed his eyebrows and thought for a moment.  
“Both.”  
Harry nodded, frowning slightly.  
“I don’t have an answer for you there,” he replied.  
“Oh.”  
“You’re going to be okay. I promise. That I can promise you.” Harry stood up. “It’s about all I can promise you, but it’s something. I’m going to see if Louis is ready to go. You’re a good kid, Luke, it’s going to be alright, okay?”  
Luke nodded.  
“Okay.”

Luke was scheduled to start school the following week. Louis would drive Luke to class on the way to the office, where he and Harry would be until dinner time, at which time Louis decided they’d try every restaurant in the vicinity until they found one that was just right. Harry wasn’t complaining.   
The first day of this new schedule, it was Harry’s birthday. Harry woke to pancakes on the table, along with a box containing a notebook full of sheet music, and a pocket knife.  
“Your song needs a title. You might as well write the rest of it down while you’re at it,” Louis explained. He pointed to the pocketknife, “And now you can stab anyone who tells you they don’t like it.”  
Harry appreciated the gesture. He knew it was a gift for the both of them. For Harry, so he could feel safe, and for Louis, who could now know that Harry was safe wherever he went. The gift was comforting, despite it being an outright weapon, and he immediately placed it in this pocket. He placed the notebook in the drawer of the bedside table for later use.   
“We should get going. Luke needs to get to school,” Louis said, his head peeking into Harry’s room.  
“Let me get my shoes,” Harry replied, “Thank you again for the gifts. It’s very thoughtful.”  
“It’s your birthday,” Louis shrugged.  
Harry slipped on his shoes and the two walked into the kitchen.  
“Still.”  
Louis grabbed his keys.  
“Don’t you want a jacket? It’s cold.”  
“I’ll be alright.”  
Louis had called a town car, and when he and Harry had reached the lobby, the car was sitting and waiting for them just outside. They rode to the Hemmings’ safe house, and Harry was told to wait in the car while Louis picked up Luke.  
“He’s scared,” Harry warned.  
“He has no reason and every reason to be. It’ll be alright, he just needs to get back into a routine. It’ll do him well.”  
Luke climbed into the car, miserable, but hiding it to the best of his abilities. Louis sat in the front seat, Harry sat behind him. Luke sat behind the driver, a book bag in his lap.   
“Did you eat breakfast?” Harry asked.  
Luke nodded.  
“You have the phone?” Louis added.  
“I’ve got all of it.”  
“Good,” Harry said, “It’s not going to be bad at all, I promise.”  
The rest of the ride to the school was silent. Louis had enrolled Luke in a private school in the city. He refused to put Luke in a school that didn’t have the toughest security available. Technically it was a boarding school, but Luke would only stay for classes, then he would be escorted home. It was a support system for Luke that would help him to move on from what had happened, but it was very jarring in Harry’s opinion, and he didn’t know if it would work. Louis knew more, Harry supposed, so perhaps Harry was just missing why Louis was insistent upon sending Luke to school so soon.   
Luke didn’t complain as he climbed from the car. He simply waved at Louis and Harry as they pulled away from the front gates of the school, then turned to walk into the building.  
Harry wondered why Louis didn’t push for him to reenroll in university as well, but he didn’t ask, afraid that by doing so Louis would change his mind on the matter. Louis hadn’t brought it up either, instead asking Harry if he wanted to be involved in what Louis would be doing, or if he’d rather wander the building and entertain himself that way.   
Harry decided on the latter, and the two split ways in the building’s lobby.   
“Don’t stay in the lobby, alright? There’s plenty to do on the other floors, but I don’t want you down here. Anyone’s authorized to come into the lobby, and I want to be sure you’re safe,” Louis explained, “Oh, and if you’re hungry, feel free to get food wherever you want. Just tell them I said it was alright.”  
With that Louis was in the elevator, on his way to the top floor.   
Harry wandered to the grand staircase behind the receptionist’s desk, which he could see only lead to the second floor. He climbed the stairs two at a time and took a left down the hallway. The doors were labelled on the left, ESU, AP, C-T, CI, Anti-Gang, and K9.  
He had no idea what any of the signs meant, aside from Anti-Gang, and he was pretty sure that he knew what K9 was referring to. He thought he’d try that door. Louis did say he could go wherever he pleased.   
The room was empty of people, and had several desks throughout it. There was a large window spanning the length of the entire far wall, looking over the busy street below. He took a few steps into the room then spun around when he heard shuffling.  
Sitting with his head cocked to the side and staring directly at Harry was a German Shepard.   
“Hello there,” Harry said gently.   
He stuck his hand out as he had learned to do, and took a timid step towards the dog. The German Shepard sniffed Harry’s hand then licked it, making Harry smile.  
“Aren’t you a pretty boy?” Harry cooed, “What’s your name?”  
The dog’s collar read Captain, and he wore a police vest.   
Harry took a seat beside Captain and scratched behind his ears. He kept talking to the dog. He liked the sound of Captain’s tail hitting the ground, and the look of his tongue hanging from his mouth. It was comforting, the unconditional love that dogs offered to humans.   
“He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he?”  
Harry spun around at the comment, and saw Calum looking down at him with a paper cup of coffee in hand.  
“He’s great,” Harry replied.  
“I was about to take him for a walk. Wanna come?”  
Captain’s ears perked up and the phrase, and Harry nodded.  
“Would Louis be okay with that?”  
“I’m sure,” Calum said, “He wants you safe, right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“That’s my job. If you’re with me and Captain, you’ll be fine.”  
Harry stood up.  
“What exactly do you do here?” Harry asked, “You work with tech, but here you are walking the patrol dogs.”  
Calum smiled and hooked a leash onto Captain’s collar.  
“I work with Louis and Watson’s team specifically for the tech they use, but I’m a dog lover, so I get to come down here and walk Captain when he’s not on duty,” Calum explained.   
He took a sip of his coffee and gestured for Harry to follow him.   
“So you just get to play with dogs and make spy gear?”  
Calum nodded.  
“Pretty much,” he agreed, “It’s every little boy’s dream, innit?”  
“Definitely.”  
Captain led Harry and Calum right out the front of the building and to the right.  
“He’s taking us to the park.”  
Harry looked at Calum curiously.  
“How does he know to go that way?”  
“It’s where we go whenever we go on a walk. He gets to play with other dogs for a little bit.”  
It was quiet then, save for the normal hustle and bustle of a city street. Neither of them spoke until they arrived at the park, where Calum let Captain free of his leash to play.   
“A little birdy told me it was your birthday,” he said, looking up at Harry.  
“It is.”  
“Well happy birthday, then. You’re officially an adult. How does it feel?”  
“It feels like it did yesterday, but now I’m at a park.”  
Calum chuckled.  
“You’re funny.”

Louis told Harry he wasn’t allowed to drink, despite it being his eighteenth birthday. Harry didn’t complain. He wasn’t particularly interested in having a drink to begin with, so the request on Louis’ part didn’t bother him. Not until the early hours of the morning that is.   
They arrived home that night around midnight. Louis wished Harry a happy birthday, and they climbed into bed. Harry fell asleep instantly, and immediately fell into a nightmare. He was back in the red room with the Russian man. He sat on the bed, stripped of his clothing, waiting for the man to do something. The man watched Harry as he stood at the end of the bed, one hand inside his pants, the other holding the bedpost for support. Harry knew he had no choice but to do what he was asked, or he’d face consequences that were even worse than the initial activity.   
“Kosnis' sebya.”  
Harry didn’t know exactly what the words meant, but he knew exactly what he was supposed to do when he heard them. He timidly reached a hand down between his own legs, matching the man’s movements.  
“Khoroshiy mal'chik,” the man said.  
Whatever the words meant, Harry knew the man was satisfied. He didn’t dare stop. His hand continued its slow and steady movement, and he tried not to think about what he was doing. If he imagined he wasn’t there, it wouldn’t be so painful. Harry closed his eyes.  
“Posmotri na menya,” the man ordered.  
Harry opened his eyes reluctantly. He knew he was meant to be watching the man, but he couldn’t get himself to do it. The man stopped and climbed onto the bed, knocking Harry’s hands back, and pinning them beside Harry’s head. Harry yelped, and the man struck him across the face.  
Harry woke at this, sitting up and rubbing his cheek. The feel of the dreamt assault still lingered on his cheek and in his pants. He decided to take a shower to calm down.  
He kept the water cool, and let it beat down on his chest, relaxing him. Calming him, although he couldn’t get the dream out of his head. The physical remnants of the dream still lingered as well, and he angled his body against the cool water to try to help the situation, but to no avail. Harry was tired, and wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn’t want to do so with a tent in his pants. That wasn’t even the issue, he just didn’t want the tent in his pants to begin with. He sighed and brought his hand down to alleviate the pressure. He hadn’t done so of his own accord since before he was abducted. It felt foreign, unwelcome almost, but he continued. He used to do this regularly, yet he no longer felt comfortable doing so. His hand continued its rhythmic motion, and he felt himself grow tenser. Then the thoughts started creeping in. Images of the Russian man. Images of Jack. Images of the red room. Images of hands on him that weren’t his own.   
He immediately let go, breathing deeply. He tried to shove the thoughts from his mind, but they lingered, haunting him as he tried desperately to catch his breath. After a moment he brought his hand back and focused intently on just the feeling of his hand on his skin. The thoughts still lingered, but he refused to go back to bed until he had sorted out his business and calmed down. He focused on the feeling alone. The tingling that built in his stomach, the growing sensitivity. The cool water beat down on him, washing away any traces of sweat that were beginning to build up on his skin. He closed his eyes and let the sensations course through him as he waited for the feeling to reach its peak. He heard Jack’s voice in the back of his mind, guiding him on how to make the action look the best.   
“Slow down. You’re not doing this for you, you’re doing it for them. Make it last.”  
Harry ignored the voice in his head spitefully, speeding up his motions. His breathing quickened, his chest tightening.   
“Be loud, they’re paying for a show.”  
The only sound he dared to make was the quiet huff that his breathing made as he tried to regulate it. Soon enough he was on the edge, the sensations coursing through his veins, making him weak in the knees.   
“Ask,” Jack’s voice echoed in his ears, “You know the rules, doll.”  
He kept his eyes shut, placing one hand on the wall for support as he let out a choked gasp, the feeling reaching its peak, crashing over him and causing him to slide down the wall. He watched as the water rinsed away the traces, trying to calm his breathing again. He hadn’t felt the panic rising in his chest, attributing it to the overwhelming rush of endorphins running through his veins, but it was there, and now it was eating at him, crawling up his throat. He remembered what Louis told him on his first night at Chez-Lou, and quickly brought his hands on top of his head.   
It wasn’t supposed to be so scary. It was supposed to feel good. It was supposed to be relaxing, and here he was sitting in the shower trying to avoid an impending panic attack.   
“You didn’t ask,” Jack’s voice said, “You know what happens when you don’t ask permission.”  
Harry gasped, shaking his head as he tried to rid his mind of Jack’s presence.  
“You know the rules, Harry.”  
“No,” Harry whined, “No, no, no, please, you’re not real. You’re not real.”  
“Naughty boys get punished, and you’ve been naughty, haven’t you, doll?”  
“I’m sorry,” Harry whimpered.  
He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on his breathing.  
“Good boys ask permission, don’t they Harry? They put on a show, and they ask for permission before they do anything, isn’t that right, doll? And you didn’t ask permission. You’ve been a naughty boy.”  
Harry shook his head and took a deep breath.  
“It’s a nightmare,” he mumbled, “I’m not naughty. I don’t have to ask you for anything.”  
Harry’s chest tightened. The water continued to fall on him, the cool temperature made him shiver. Harry continued to focus on his breathing, using the water temperature as incentive to calm himself. If he could fight off the panic attack, he could get out of the shower, or at least make the water warmer. There was no reason to let the anxiety engulf him. He was just fine. He was alone, entirely his own person, entirely safe. Nothing was going to happen to him. He was okay.   
He kept repeating that to himself until he could feel the panic ebbing away. He took a deep breath, out of the rhythm he had set for himself, and stood to turn off the water. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair hung in his face, and he brushed it away. The towel hid the fern leaves on his hips, and he wished yet again that he could permanently remove them. He dried off and put his sweatpants back on, pleased only at the fact that he had managed to overcome the panic attack entirely on his own, not that he would be telling Louis, who would inevitably worry about him. Harry didn’t want that. He wanted Louis to not worry about Harry, considering what was already filling his plate. Besides, Harry was fine. A little bit shaken, but fine.   
After one last glance in the mirror, Harry walked back out to the bedroom and climbed back under the covers beside Louis.  
Louis rolled over in his sleep and tucked his arm around Harry’s waist. Harry flinched at the movement, stirring Louis from his slumber.  
“Everything alright, love?” Louis murmured.  
“Yeah,” Harry lied, “All good.”  
Louis sat up on one elbow.  
“Are you sure?”  
Harry shook his head.  
“Another dream?” Harry shrugged, “Dammit, I’m sorry, love.”  
Louis hugged Harry so that his chin was on Harry’s shoulder.  
“’S not your fault, Lou.”  
Louis shook his head slightly, nuzzling into Harry.  
“I still worry. Are you sure you’re alright?”  
Harry sighed, “No.”  
“Oh, love, come here,” Louis whispered. He wrapped his arm tightly around Harry, who reciprocated. “I’ve got you, love. Try and get some sleep, I’ll be right here. We can talk about it in the morning if you want, but sleep now.”  
Harry nodded, and began to fall asleep in the comfort of Louis’ arms. He felt safe here, with Louis protecting him. The warmth of Louis’ embrace was relaxing, and Harry felt at home. Sleep came easily to him then.  
Louis fell asleep second. He made sure Harry was out before he closed his eyes. Harry hadn’t told him what had happened, and Louis didn’t want to think about the possibilities, but he couldn’t help it. Although he wasn’t able to completely stop the nightmares, he was glad that Harry’s dreams were less frequent than before, now only occurring once every few days, rather than several times each night. Harry had obviously had a nightmare. One so startling that it made him want to get out of bed and, judging by his wet hair, take a shower. Louis sighed and snuggled into Harry’s side and closed his eyes.


	12. Lottie

Harry had several more nightmares that night. Each waking him from his sleep, and in turn causing Louis to wake up and make sure Harry was alright. Harry assured Louis he was fine, the two fell asleep once again, and the cycle repeated itself until the morning when Louis insisted that Harry open up and talk about what happened. Harry hesitated to tell Louis, knowing he’d have to explain why he had the dream to begin with, which would mean telling Louis what Luke had told Harry in confidence, and he didn’t feel that he could do that. Harry stared at the blankets – Louis decided they’d talk in bed, since Harry still hadn’t gotten out of it – and didn’t talk.   
“Come on, Harry,” Louis prompted, “I can’t help if I don’t know where to start. You were doing so well, what happened?”  
Harry frowned. Louis was perceptive. He already knew that Harry’s nightmares were provoked.  
“I talked to Luke about what happened to him, and I started thinking about what happened to me, and now I can’t stop thinking about it, and it’s all I can think about, and it’s scary, and I don’t want to think about it, but it’s right there, Lou, and it won’t go away,” Harry said all in one breath.  
“Harry, love, calm down. Calm down. Let’s work through this slowly, alright? So you talked to Luke about what happened to him? Did you talk to him about the Russians or about Jack? The Russians, alright, well did you talk about what happened before or after they took him? After? Did the same thing happen to you?” Harry nodded, “When was the last time you talked to someone about what happened?”  
“I don’t think I have,” Harry admitted.  
“Oh, love, you can’t let it eat at you like this.”  
“It was fine until last night, and the he wouldn’t go away, he was talking to me, and telling me what to do, and I didn’t listen, and he didn’t go away, and I had to count to a hundred like you told me to, and I was just sitting there, and their voices wouldn’t go away, and all I could hear was ‘do this,’ and ‘do that,’ and I didn’t want to, I just wanted it to stop, and I had to wait, and wait, and wait, and I’m done waiting for it all to get better, Louis, I just want it to stop.”  
“Harry, love, breathe. Take a deep breath. Don’t work yourself up. You needed to let it out, it’s alright. Talking to me helps. If you don’t want to talk to me, you can talk to someone else. You talked to Calum yesterday, didn’t you? What did you talk about?”  
“Nothing. We just walked the dog.”  
“Oh that’s right, Calum mentioned that. Did that help? It was Captain, right? Did it help to have Captain there?”  
Harry nodded.  
“He was really nice.”  
“He’s a good dog. Do you think having a dog would help? We can get a dog.”  
“No, no, I don’t need a dog, Louis, don’t get a dog just for me.”  
“What do you need then?”  
Harry shook his head.  
“I don’t know, I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be sorry.”  
“You always say that.”  
“I know.”  
“Why do you say it?”  
“Because you shouldn’t be sorry,” Louis said simply, “I have to go take Luke to school. I’ll work from home so you don’t have to come to the office. Do you want to come with me now, or do you want to stay put? Maybe sleep a little?”  
“I’ll stay,” Harry replied.  
“I’ll be back in an hour, I promise.”  
“Okay.”  
Louis climbed out of bed, leaving Harry to go back to sleep, which Harry tried his hardest to do. He heard the door click shut, signaling to Harry that Louis had left. Harry rolled over and closed his eyes. The bed was still warm where Louis had slept, and Harry felt safe with that knowledge.   
He dozed off in minutes.   
“Wake up, doll.”  
Harry sat up with a start.  
“You know better than to be sleeping.”  
Harry looked around the room for the source of the voice.  
“Hello?” He whispered.  
“You’ve been naughty, haven’t you, Harry?”  
“N-No,” Harry whined, “You’re not here. You’re not here.”   
He shook his head.  
“Naughty boys get punished, don’t they, doll? And you’re being very naughty today, aren’t you? You should be working for your master.”  
“I don’t have a master. I’m still sleeping,” Harry rationalized, “I’m just dreaming. I can make you go away if I want.”  
“You can’t get rid of me, doll. You can’t escape the consequences.”  
Harry shook his head again and climbed out of bed. The cool air raised goose bumps on his shirtless chest as he walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. He hoped that leaving the bedroom would make Jack’s voice leave his head.  
“What happens to naughty boys? What’s the consequence for disrespecting your master, Harry?”  
Harry refused to reply to the taunting voice. He knew it was in his head. He knew he was sleeping.  
“What happens, doll? Tell me.”  
Harry pinched his arm. It was supposed to wake him up.  
“I’m going to wake up and you’re going to go away,”” Harry said, more to himself than to Jack.  
“You can’t wake up, Harry. You can’t escape the consequences of your actions.”  
“I can, and I will,” Harry said firmly.  
He downed the rest of his water and leaned on the countertop.   
“Accept it. I’m here and I’m not leaving.”  
Harry’s chest tightened, and he felt tears prick his eyes. He put his glass down to make sure it wouldn’t break in his firm hold. He was shaking, and not because he was cold.  
“Please,” Harry begged, almost silently.  
“Accept it, doll.”  
“Please!” Harry cried out.  
“You can’t escape me, Harry. No matter where you are.”  
“No,” Harry whimpered, “No, no, no.”  
Harry clung to the counter top for support, his knuckles white. It was cold to the touch.  
“Face it, doll.”  
“No,” Harry repeated.  
He took deep breaths and looked around the room for a distraction.   
The liquor cabinet.  
It was a dream, Harry rationalized, so Louis wouldn’t be mad if he drank. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he needed to try something to get Jack out of his head. He took a random bottle, not caring which one, and opened it. He took a big gulp, letting it burn his throat on the way down.  
“You can’t get rid of me, doll.”  
Harry took another swig.  
“I’m going to drown you out,” Harry whined, “You’ll go away. I’ll make you.”  
Half an hour later, the bottle was empty, Jack was still in Harry’s ear, and Harry was on the floor, bawling. Harry held the empty bottle in his hand, and wrapped his other around his knees. He continued to try to drain the last of the liquor from the empty bottle.  
“I’ll drown you out,” Harry whimpered, “I’ll drown you out, I will, I swear.”  
He repeated it like a mantra.   
“Harry?” Louis. “Harry, what happened? Hey, hey, what did I tell you about drinking? Give me that, come on now. Harry, love, what’s wrong? Talk to me, love. What happened?”  
Harry felt Louis’ arms wrap around him and he flung them off, fighting to keep a hold on the liquor bottle.  
“Love, give me the bottle. It’s alright, just hand it to me. There we go. Tell me what happened.”  
“No,” Harry cried, “You’re supposed to me mad at me. I had to,” he slurred, “Had to drown him out.”  
“Drown who out? Love, you’re drowning yourself. Come on, sit up now, that’s it. I’m not mad, I’m just worried about you. Good boy, sit up now,” Louis helped Harry to lean against the cabinets, “Shh, it’s alright, love, I’m here. Who were you drowning out?”  
“Jack,” Harry whined, “He said he couldn’t go away, but I’m dreaming so he has to listen to me, but he’s not listening to me, Lou. He’s not leaving.”  
Harry’s words were slurred, and Louis could hardly follow along, but what he did catch worried him. He glanced around the kitchen, looking for signs of Jack being in the house.  
“Is he still here, love?”  
“He won’t stop talking.” Harry groaned, “He’s so mean, Lou. So mean to me.”  
“He’s talking to you?”  
“In my head,” Harry slurred.  
His head rolled to the side and into Louis’ shoulder.   
“Alright love, it’s going to be alright. He’s just talking, love, he can’t hurt you. I won’t let him.”  
Louis tried again to wrap his arms around Harry, who relented. Harry’s breathing was erratic, and Louis wondered if he was panicking, or worried about the voices in his head. Harry hadn’t heard voices until now, as far as he knew, which, granted, worried Louis. Hearing voices wasn’t normal by any means. He knew it could be a symptom of a number of things, but he didn’t know which one, and he didn’t really like the options—psychosis, depression, manic depression, post-traumatic stress—they weren’t pleasant to live with, and he couldn’t tell what in particular was triggering it in Harry.  
“He’s supposed to stop ‘cause I’m dreaming,” Harry slurred against Louis’ chest.   
“You’re not dreaming, Harry,” Louis said gently, “He can’t get to you.”  
Harry was very drunk, Louis noticed. Far too drunk, he realized, as he glanced at the empty liquor bottle. How full had it been before Harry got into it? Harry let out a particularly loud sob, and Louis winced.   
“Harry, love, you need to calm down. You’re going to make yourself sick. Can you look at me, love? Come on, that’s it. Good, Harry. Focus on me and pretend he’s not there. You’re doing so well.”  
Tears fell down Harry’s cheeks, but his ragged breathing slowed, and he no longer was shaking. Louis smiled reassuringly. His hand ran up and down Harry’s bare back soothingly.  
“Good, love. Let’s get you some water, alright? Let’s sober you up.”  
Louis tried to stand, but Harry clung to him.  
“Oh, now you want me to stay? Let me go for just a second. I’ve got to stand to get you some water. I’m not going anywhere, I promise, love.”  
Harry relented, and Louis stood to refill the empty glass on the counter top. He handed the glass to Harry.  
“Not thirsty,” he mumbled.  
“You need it, Harry. Please don’t be difficult, this is important.”  
Harry sighed, but drank it willingly.  
“He’s mean,” Harry drawled.  
“I know, love.”  
Harry finished the glass of water and handed it back to Louis, who filled it with water and handed it back to Harry.  
“Not thirsty,” he mumbled again.  
“Love, please drink it.”  
Harry huffed at Louis, but did as he was asked.  
“Is he still talking?”  
Harry frowned and paused, then shook his head.  
“He went away when you came back.”  
Louis nearly smiled at this, but kept his expression blank as he sat back down beside Harry. He liked that he was able to make the voices stop just by being there.   
“That’s good, love. How are you feeling?”  
Harry shrugged.  
“Woozy,” he mumbled, dragging out the word.  
Louis laughed at that.  
“I’m sure you are. Let’s get you back into bed so you can sleep this off, alright? You’re going to have a nasty hangover.”  
Harry leaned on Louis, sliding down until he was in Louis’ lap.  
“No, no,” Louis chuckled, “In a bed. You can’t sleep on me, love, I have to work.”  
Harry whined, but let Louis carry him into the bedroom.  
“Jesus, Harry, did you eat stones for breakfast? You weigh a ton.”  
“Light as a feather,” Harry mumbled.  
Louis scoffed and tucked the boy under the blankets.  
“Do you want a shirt? Are you cold?”  
“No and no,” Harry muttered into the blankets.  
“Do you want me to work in here?”  
Harry shifted his head and groaned into the pillow. It sounded somewhat affirmative to Louis, who decided to take the response as a positive one.  
“Alright, let me get my laptop and I’ll come sit.”

It turned out Harry was dead to the world once he had fallen asleep, which was perfect for Louis, since he didn’t really want Harry to listen to his work conversations to begin with. Louis figured Harry would be able to sleep through anything once he was out, and he really needed to work from the office after the phone call he had received from Calum while dropping Luke off. After reading the briefs emailed to him, and responding to Lottie’s analysis of the Hemmings’ files—noting her comment, one that Louis himself had overlooked, on how Luke and his brothers being separated for a period of time—, he decided that he would be there in the office for a little while via a video conference call.   
After several minutes of glitches and, “Can you hear me?” troubleshooting moments, Louis was virtually in the office, ready for a briefing on what Calum was so worked up about.  
“Alright, I’m here now. Let’s get started,” Louis said.  
Calum spoke first while Louis settled into bed beside Harry. He propped his knees up and set his laptop on his lap.   
“As you know, nearly all of the victims have one of two tattoos. Zoloto vezuchiy, and vezuchiy. One means lucky, the other means Lucky’s Gold. This means that Lucky is a name, not an adjective.”  
“Adverb.”  
“Shut up Michael. As I was saying, Lucky is a name. We’re thinking it’s the name of the leader of the Russian group, but we’re not sure.”  
“I can believe that,” Louis replied, glancing at Harry, “Why do you think the minors are considered gold-grade property then? Why not the adults?”  
“We haven’t given it much thought yet, just trying to get a grasp of the brunt of the information on the organization, less so on the details just for the moment. That being said, I can imagine whoever Lucky is, he’s obsessed with kids.”  
Louis grimaced. That seemed to be true, based off of the little tidbits he had gotten from Harry. He’d have to try to get Luke to divulge something to him, if at all possible to help prove this to be true.  
“Did we do a search for anyone named Lucky? It’s not a common name, is it?”  
Harry shifted in his sleep, snuggling into Louis’ side. Louis rubbed Harry’s back as he worked.  
“No, it’s not a common name.”  
“Well?”  
“There are a few that could potentially be our guy. We’re interested in a couple family men in particular. Small town guys, not really on our radar. It makes them perfect for going unnoticed.”  
Louis nodded, but the Detective seemed to find an error in the given information.  
“I have to stop you there,” Detective Watson said, “It isn’t feasible for a small town man to run a ring as big as this one.”  
“There were others, you said?” Louis asked.  
“A few. None that fit the profile.” Michael responded.  
“Did you look for anyone going by Lucky as a nickname? Any businesses or companies?” The Detective wondered.  
“No nicknames.”  
“Businesses?” Louis pressed.  
“A casino.”  
“A casino?” Louis frowned, thinking.   
Calum nodded.  
“From what the website says, it’s pretty well known, and fairly elite, too,” he told Louis.   
“That’s feasible. How quickly can we have a team there?” Louis asked.  
Louis felt like something was missing, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.  
“Tonight.”  
“Can we do that?”  
“It’s possible. Is that what we want?” The Detective replied.  
Louis watched as everyone in the office nodded.  
“Alright, I’ll have it cleared by midnight.”  
“Michael can you call the safe houses and have everyone schedule a time to come in tomorrow? Everyone needs to look at the surveillance pictures and see if they recognize something, or better yet someone.” Detective Watson asked.  
Michael nodded.  
“I’ll bring Harry in with me. Luke needs to come after school, not before. We don’t want him worked up in his classes during his first week. You can call Beck and James whenever you’d like. I’ll be there all day, unless you want to do that?” Louis directed his questions to the Detective.   
“I can take it,” Detective Watson replied, “You should work with Michael and Calum on improving security measures at the safe houses.”  
“Will do. Can you reserve an interview room, and get Captain for the day? He’ll help keep everyone relaxed,” Louis said, “I’m going to go. I need to look for something. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”  
Louis ended the call and opened the files, scanning them carefully until he found what he was looking for. An unsettlingly familiar phrase from years ago. He called Michael.  
“What’s up?” Michael asked.  
“Only call in Edwards. She’ll be able to tell us everything we need to know if this is the right place.”  
“What does she know?”  
“I’m not sure. I think she’ll know something, though.”  
“Anything else?”  
“No, I think that’s it. If she doesn’t have anything, call in the others as well, but I’m pretty sure she’s all you’ll need.”  
“You got it. I’ll make sure Watson knows.”  
“Tell him to reread Edwards’ file.”  
“Will do.”  
The line went dead and Louis climbed from the bed. He set his laptop down on the bedside table and went into the kitchen to make lunch. He started on pasta, thinking that the carbs would help Harry’s impending hangover.   
He filled a glass of water to bring to Harry, and once the pot was on the stove, he pulled out his phone, dialing Lottie’s number, and hoping she wouldn’t be in class. He leaned on the counter, watching the water—he knew it would never boil that way, but he kept his eyes trained on the pot regardless. He was glad when she picked up on the first ring.  
“Hey Lou.”  
“Lottie,” Louis replied, “How’re you doing? School alright?”  
“School’s good, I’m out for lunch. What’s up?”  
“I hate to just jump into it, but I’m a bit worried about Harry. He’s had two major break downs in the span of twenty-four hours. He was doing great—only having the occasional nightmare, at least that I know of—up until last night, and I’m not sure what happened, but he’s currently out cold in bed after downing an entire bottle of Bacardi in under an hour and saying he was hearing voices.”  
“Where were you when that happened?”  
“I had to take Luke to school. I thought Harry was going to go back to sleep, but when I came back he was on the floor with an empty bottle in his hands, claiming to be trying to drown out whoever was in his head.”  
“So he woke up and freaked out?”  
“I suppose so,” Louis replied, “he was too drunk to tell me what was going on so I brought him to bed.”  
“Well, that was a good start. He’s going to be quite sick in a little while, I’d imagine. Don’t you think so?”  
“He had an entire bottle of Bacardi.”  
“A thousand pound hangover. I’m sure he’ll be happy about that.”  
“He’s not going to be too happy, but that’s not what I’m worried about. It was the second one today.”  
“When was the other?” Lottie asked, “It’s only half eleven.”  
“Just past midnight. I slept through it, until he hopped in the shower.”  
“At midnight?” Lottie wondered, surprised.  
“I haven’t the faintest idea as to why, but yes, at midnight.”  
“That’s quite strange.”  
“That’s why I’m calling you.”  
Lottie and Louis talked until the water was simmering, Lottie giving helpful advice to Louis, and Louis planning for Lottie to come visit during her upcoming school holiday. He hung up, telling Lottie that he had to finish making lunch, and pocketed his phone. The water was nearly at a boil, so he decided to check on Harry, then put the pasta on.   
He walked into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and took painkillers from the little orange bottle. He pocketed a few, and brought a few others to the dark bedroom, along with the water.  
Harry was snoring lightly from beneath the covers. Louis set the glass of water on the bedside table and took a seat on the bed beside Harry.  
“Up you come, love,” Louis murmured, gently shaking Harry’s shoulder, “You need to take some painkillers.”  
Harry groaned and tugged the blankets over his head.  
“Come on, Harry. Have some water and then you can go back to sleep for a little bit.”  
Louis pulled the blankets away and handed the pills to Harry, who graciously accepted them. He finished off the glass of water quickly before trying to hide under the blankets again.  
“Thank you, Lou,” he mumbled.  
“I’ll be back in a few minutes to get you up. You need to eat something.”  
Harry didn’t respond, so Louis returned to the kitchen. The house was silent as he dumped the pasta into the water which was boiling. He watched the pot for a moment, stirring every now and then, before he heard Harry get out of bed. When Harry didn’t enter the kitchen, he worried that something was wrong. He placed the lid on the pot and walked into the bedroom to check on Harry.   
The bed was empty, and Harry was on his knees beside the toilet in the bathroom, chin resting on the toilet seat.  
“Oh, Harry,” Louis sighed, “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”   
Louis kneeled beside Harry and pulled his hair back from his face as he was sick again.   
“’S not your fault,” Harry mumbled, “Shouldn’t’ve had anything to drink.”  
Louis shook his head.  
“I understand why you did it, but drinking on an empty stomach isn’t going to bode well, and drinking an entire bottle of Bacardi doesn’t solve your problems, either.”  
Louis rubbed Harry’s back soothingly.  
“Sorry.”  
“I’m not mad.”  
“It’s bloody expensive.”  
“Love, I’m not worried about that.”  
Harry coughed.  
“’M sorry anyways.”  
Louis smirked.  
“I accept your apology, love,” he said to appease the sickly boy before him, “I have pasta cooking. It should help your stomach.” Harry nodded. “You might want to take some more painkillers. I have a feeling the one’s you took won’t do you much good anymore.”  
Harry rolled his eyes at Louis’ attempt at humor.  
“Thank you.”  
“You don’t need to thank me,” Louis smiled, “Do you think you’re alright now?” Harry nodded. “Why don’t you come sit in the kitchen with me, yeah?”  
“Okay.”  
Louis helped Harry to his feet and let him brush his teeth before walking with him into the kitchen. Harry sat at the island, leaning on the counter top.  
“How’s your head feeling?” Louis asked as he checked the pasta.  
“It’s been better. Do you need help cooking?”  
Louis shook his head and turned off the stove.  
“I’m fine, you stay put. Do you want to talk about what happened? Should I lock up my liquor cabinet?”  
Louis drained the pasta in the sink, setting the pot back on the stove.  
Harry frowned.  
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.  
“Don’t be. I understand why it happened, and I’m not mad, love. I just want to know what’s going on so I can help.”  
Harry shrugged.  
“Honestly, I can’t remember most of it,” he admitted quietly, “I was dreaming of Jack talking to me in my head, and when I woke up the voices didn’t stop. I thought it was happening ‘cause I was just on edge, so I had a swig of whatever that was –mind you I thought I was dreaming, still—and waited for him to shut up. I don’t really know what happened after that.”  
Louis took two plates out of the cabinet above the sink.  
“I found you on the ground, and the entire bottle was empty. You were pretty worked up about it.”  
“I know.”  
“You still thought you were dreaming, even after all of that.”  
“I was hearing voices, what was I supposed to think?”  
Louis forked pasta onto the two plates. He set them on the counter top and added salt and cheese to the top of both plates, handing one to Harry, along with a fork.  
“It’s a symptom—granted, a little bit less common than most—of post-traumatic stress. You’re not crazy, if that’s what was worrying you.”  
“Well, after the fact, yes,” Harry said, taking the plate.  
Louis sat across from Harry.  
“Alright, well you’re not crazy,” Louis confirmed, “You just haven’t moved on from the event that triggered it. We can work past that so that this doesn’t have to happen again.”   
Harry didn’t reply. Instead, he shoveled a large forkful of pasta into his mouth, and stared at his plate.  
“Do you know why it happened?” Louis asked.  
Harry shrugged and Louis took a bite of the pasta.  
“Any idea at all?” He asked with his mouth full.  
“It’s embarrassing,” Harry admitted.  
“You can tell me anything, Harry, I’m not going to judge you.”  
Harry shook his head.  
“It’s embarrassing,” he repeated.  
Louis let it go, but his curiosity only grew.   
“Alright, you don’t have to tell me. I understand.”  
“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, taking another bite of pasta.  
Louis changed the subject.  
“I actually have to go into the office tomorrow, and I’m going to need you to come with me.”  
“Okay.”  
“We’re getting surveillance footage in tonight, and we need you to tell us if you recognize anything,” Louis explained.  
Harry frowned.  
“Where’s it from?”  
“A place called Lucky. It’s a casino.”  
Harry’s eyes widened.  
“Oh,” he said.  
“Does that sound familiar to you?” Louis asked.  
“No, it just makes sense. I’ll tell you if I recognize anything.”  
Louis didn’t press for more information, knowing that Harry would divulge if he felt comfortable.  
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Louis asked, realizing Harry’s plate was already empty.  
Harry nodded.  
“Alright. Here, take these, and drink another glass of water for me. I’ll get the telly set up.”  
Louis handed Harry the two painkillers he had stashed in his pocket. He cleared away the dishes – Harry’s in the sink, his in the fridge—before walking into the living room. He turned on the television and took a seat on the sofa, leaving plenty of room for Harry.  
“Can I sit with you?” Harry asked when he entered the room.  
“Of course you can. You don’t even have to ask.”  
Louis sat so that Harry could sit between his legs, a blanket draped over the two of them.   
“Preference on a movie?”   
Harry shook his head and Louis hit play for whatever was in the disk player, his focus entirely on Harry, who was cuddled into his lap, head on Louis chest. Louis ran his hand through Harry’s long curls, carefully brushing out the knots. It had grown long past his shoulders, and Louis knew he would need to take Harry to get it cut soon. He wondered why Harry had gotten so worked up, but didn’t want to push him into another episode, so he kept quiet. He didn’t want do upset Harry by bringing him into the office the next day, either, although that wasn’t avoidable. Yawning, he decided he’d worry about it later, and in just enjoy the time he was spending with Harry.  
“Are you comfortable?” He asked.  
Harry nodded, shifting to his side and wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist. Louis stroked Harry’s back as the movie started.  
“Love this movie,” Harry mumbled.


	13. Captain

Louis wasn’t interested in the movie –he had seen it before—and his thoughts were otherwise occupied with the casino, and Harry, and Jack, and Ashton.   
He hadn’t heard from Ashton since he had returned home, and he made a note to call before dinner to check in and see if he was doing alright. He thought about Jack and how the man was only working for his own personal gain. The victims of Jack’s geed had faced circumstances, just to bring in money, and though he thought about this often, Louis couldn’t fathom how someone could destroy a child so thoroughly for the sake of wealth.   
How heartless would someone have to be to justify that? Louis just didn’t understand. He supposed Jack was simply heartless, and had discovered his potential riches in a casino –if it was, in fact, the casino—where he scouted out Perrie.   
Louis wondered how Jack found Harry. He had never explicitly heard how Harry had gone from the hands of the Russians to Jack. He only knew that Harry thought Jack was a million times nicer and more caring than the Russians had been.   
From what Louis knew of Jack, this meant the Russians were absolutely horrible. He couldn’t imagine anyone worse than Jack, who was already his worst nightmare. His thoughts drifted morbidly to what that could mean the Russians did to their victims. What could be worse than selling a human being? Forcing a child to be with heartless men?  
Harry looked up at Louis and frowned.  
“Are you okay?” He asked.  
“I’m fine, love, just thinking.”  
“What about?”  
“Work.”  
“Did you not like the movie?”  
Louis smiled.  
“It’s a lovely movie. I’ve seen it before.”  
“Why didn’t you say so? We could’ve watched something else.”  
Louis shook his head.  
“I didn’t mind. Did you like it?”  
Harry nodded, sitting up in Louis’ lap.  
“Do you have to work now?”  
“Not until later tonight,” Louis explained, “Do you want to come with me to the shop in the morning? We don’t have much food left in the house.”  
“Sure,” Harry shrugged.

Harry insisted on taking over the shopping list and wandering between the aisles. He collected an assortment of fruits and vegetables, and shut Louis down every time the older of the two tried to help in any way. Louis tried to convince Harry that he didn’t need to cook every meal, but Harry simply explained that it was the only way he felt he could make up for everything Louis did for him, and Louis relented, agreeing to let Harry cook as long as they had pizza that night. Harry agreed.  
“Do you really need four different kinds of pasta?” Louis asked.  
“There’s a reason you don’t eat macaroni and meatballs,” Harry replied, “Besides, you said I could cook, and shouldn’t there be options?”  
“You’re right, I—” Louis’ phone rang. “I’ve got to take this.”  
Louis stepped to the side and took his phone from his pocket.  
“Tomlinson.”  
“Louis we have eyes in Lucky. Edwards is looking at the footage now.”  
It was Calum.  
“And?”  
“It’s just a casino.”  
“Look for anyone going into a backroom. Anyone that looks suspicious or scared.”  
“She’s watching for anything that she recognizes.”  
Harry wandered towards the cheeses, and Louis followed. Harry picked up a couple small wheels of cheese and placed one back on the stand. Louis turned to look out the shop window.  
“Let me know if anything pops up. Maybe she’ll see something you don’t.”  
“Got it.”  
“I’ll be there in an hour with Harry.”  
“Where are you now?”  
Louis turned back towards Harry, who was now placing several small wheels of cheese into his basket.  
“We’re currently at the shop buying four different kinds of pasta, and half a dozen kinds of cheese, because Harry has decided that he needs to cook meals to repay me for doing my job,” Louis said, smirking.  
Harry ducked his head sheepishly, but Louis shook his head at Harry, who smiled slightly.  
“Seriously?”   
“Every night for as long as he wants, except for tonight.”  
“What’s tonight?”  
“Pizza.” Louis hesitated, “I don’t want him worrying about cooking if today’s hard on him.”  
Harry frowned, and Louis shook his head again, mouthing don’t worry.  
“Makes sense to me.”  
“I’m going to go. I think Harry’s done picking cheeses.”  
“Do you want me to send a car for you?”  
“That would be great. Thank you.”  
“No problem.”  
Louis hung up and pocketed his phone.  
“You ready?”  
“Yeah.”   
Harry placed the basket in Louis’ open hand, and Louis turned away. The two began walking towards the self-checkout.  
“What’s going to be hard on me?”  
Louis scrunched his nose and glanced at Harry.  
“I mentioned it last night. We have some surveillance footage from that casino that you might need to take a look at. It might be nothing, and if it’s no big deal, you don’t need to worry about it at all. ”  
“Why?”  
“Calum can explain when we get to the office.”  
Louis began to scan the items and hand them to Harry to put in the bags.  
“Louis, tell me what it is. I can handle it.”  
Louis ignored his request.  
“When did you sneak that into the basket?” Louis asked, pointing to the large jar of chocolate spread.  
“When you were on the phone. It goes well with cheese for desert.” Harry replied. “You still haven’t answered me.”  
“I’m not going to. I don’t want you worrying about it unless you absolutely have to, alright? We’re supposed to be helping you move forward, not be dragging you back again and again. If you need to see it, Calum will tell you about it.”  
“So it has something to do with Jack?” Harry guessed. “The Russians?”  
“I didn’t say that.”  
“You didn’t have to.”  
Louis paid for the food and went to pick up the bags.  
“I can carry them,” Harry said, knocking Louis hands away.  
“I don’t want you to. I can do it.” Louis replied.   
He picked up the bags before Harry could.  
“I can handle carrying the bags, and I can handle knowing what’s on that footage” Harry said flatly.  
“Harry, I’m serious, leave it alone.”  
The two walked from the shop, Harry sulking two paces behind Louis.  
“No,” Harry whined, “I don’t have to leave it alone. You’re not telling me something. You haven’t kept anything from me until now, so I’m starting to think it’s something I need to be worried about. It’s more than just security footage.”  
Louis stopped, and Harry stopped, too. He crossed his arms and frowned at Louis.  
“Harry, I have kept a lot from you for your sake. There are many things that I know about that would absolutely crush you if you knew them. If I’m not telling you what’s on the footage, it’s because I don’t want you to know, and if I don’t want you to know, it’s for good reason. Do you understand that?”  
Harry didn’t reply.  
“I’m not telling you unless I need to, because I care about you, love. I can’t handle seeing you upset again, alright?” Louis took a deep breath. He refused to raise his voice. “I have done nothing to make you not trust me or my choices. If you can’t see that, then that’s something you’re going to have to sort out for yourself.”  
“Why is it such a big deal to you? It’s only security footage.” Harry snapped.  
“No, Harry, it’s not. At least it might not be. Just…leave it alone. Please.”  
Harry huffed and started walking towards Louis’ flat. Louis followed.  
When Louis set down the bags to unlock the flat, Harry immediately picked them up. He set them on the counter and put everything away without looking at Louis, who watched him from his spot by the door. He knew Louis wasn’t going to give in, and he didn’t like feeling as helpless as he did.   
When he finished with the groceries he walked into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. He sat like that for a fairly long time, ignoring Louis, who continued to watch him from his spot by the door.  
“The car is here.”  
Harry trailed Louis to the car and spent the majority of the ride staring out the window.   
He felt Louis’ eyes on his back.  
“What?” Harry asked, not looking away from the passing buildings.  
“You’re mad at me.”  
“It’s mutual, as far as I can tell.”  
“I’m not mad at you, love.”  
Harry faced Louis. Surprise flitted across his features before he covered it with a frown.  
“Yeah? Well, I’m not too happy with you.”  
“Why?”  
“You’re not telling me what’s going on. I don’t like being in the dark.”  
“I don’t like seeing you upset.”  
“I wouldn’t be upset if you would just tell me what’s on that footage.”  
Harry’s voice was getting louder, but Louis’ stayed calm and collected, which infuriated Harry even more.  
“It would upset you more if you knew, love.”  
“No, what’s upsetting me is feeling like people are keeping secrets from me.”  
“I’m not keeping things from you, love, I’m just not telling you what it might be because if it isn’t, there’s no reason for me to tell you what it wasn’t.”  
“That doesn’t make any sense!”  
“Yes it does. Don’t shout, I can hear you just fine when you speak normally.”  
Harry was sure there was steam pouring out of his ears at that point.   
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he seethed. “If you don’t want to upset me, don’t tell me what to do.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride. When they pulled up at the office, Louis thanked the driver, and the two walked into the building. Louis set his hand on Harry’s shoulder, but it was shaken off immediately.  
“Don’t touch me.”  
Louis sighed.  
“We’re stopping at the front desk,” he said quietly.  
“Why?”  
Louis didn’t reply, instead he turned to the receptionist.  
“We need the access badge for Harry Styles.”  
The receptionist handed a lanyard with an ID card to Harry.  
“Put that on,” Louis said quietly, “It’ll allow you to go wherever you want in the building. It’ll also let you in without me, if you need to do that.”  
Harry nodded and placed the lanyard over his head.  
Louis walked to the elevator. He checked his watch as the doors opened, and stepped in, beckoning for Harry to follow. Harry narrowed his eyes, but trailed after Louis. He stood in the corner of the elevator, watching Louis.  
When they reached Louis’ office, Louis stopped and turned to Harry.  
“I’m doing the best I can,” Louis said. “Please trust that, if you can’t find it in yourself to trust anything else I’ve done today, alright?”  
Harry frowned but nodded. Louis had given him no reason to believe that there was a problem, or that Harry wasn’t safe, or that Louis was intentionally upsetting Harry. He was frustrated that Louis was keeping him in the dark, and he felt helpless because he couldn’t get it out of Louis even if he tried, and he was scared that whatever was on the tapes was something that could hurt him, but he knew Louis wasn’t trying to do anything bad to Harry. He could trust that, if he couldn’t trust anything else.  
“Thank you,” Louis sighed.  
As soon as they stepped into Louis’ office, Calum was briefing Louis on what was going on. A girl Harry recognized as Perrie was seated beside Calum looking very overwhelmed.  
“Perrie took a look at it, said she recognized the place. She didn’t get any faces, but at least we know it’s the right place.”  
“Did you get anyone into the back?”  
Harry tried to listen in, but Michael called him over.  
“Morning, Harry, how’re you doing?”  
“’M okay.”  
“Do you mind taking a look at some pictures I have here?”  
Harry shrugged and pulled up a chair to sit beside Michael.   
“Alright, I’m going to show you a series of shots and you’re going to stop me if you recognize anything. It could be a room, a t-shirt, a person—anything.”  
“Is this from the security footage Louis was telling me about?”  
“He told you about it? I thought he was going to wait.”  
Harry shrugged.  
“He only told me that I don’t need to worry about it unless I need to worry about it, whatever that means.”  
Michael laughed and leaned back in his chair.  
“He has a point,” Michael nodded, “These are from the same footage, yes. Only part of it.”  
The last part of Michael’s statement didn’t go unnoticed by Harry in the slightest.  
“What’s everyone hiding from me?” Harry asked irritably, “Why can’t I know what’s on that footage?”  
“The same reason that there are classified files in the MI6. It’s more trouble than it’s worth, mate. You don’t want to deal with it unless you have to.” He leaned forwards in his seat and opened a file, “Here, take a look at these, tell me what you think, and then we can talk about looking at the footage.”  
Harry looked at the first picture and frowned. He had never seen anything in that picture before. It was the front of what he assumed was Lucky’s, although he didn’t recognize it.  
“Nothing?” Harry shook his head, “Alright, let’s look at the next one. There’re nearly a hundred. You can click through yourself.” Michael said.  
The next picture was the same, and so were the next fifteen. Absolutely nothing. He didn’t get why he was looking at these pictures to begin with, but he kept clicking through.   
The pictures were of the outside of the casino—different shots of the front, and then of the back. Next was the inside. It was more than a casino, Harry noted. There were stripper poles in the next few pictures, all with scantily clad women hanging from them. Men sat around the bases of the poles, and Harry looked at the faces he could see, trying to find someone he recognized. They were all strangers. The pictures shifted to show the next part of the room: an assortment of poker games. Still, Harry was at a loss. They knew Harry had just turned eighteen. When had they expected him to go to a bar? One in Russia, no less.   
The next set of pictures showed a bar. Still he didn’t recognize any faces, nor any features of the casino.   
The photoset ended and Harry looked to Michael.  
“Nothing?” Michael asked.  
“Nope,” Harry replied.  
“I have to ask Louis a question. Hang on a second.”  
Michael stood up and walked over to where Louis was. Harry couldn’t hear the conversation clearly, but he tried to make out what they were saying.   
“He never mentioned it,” Louis said.  
Michael said something that he couldn’t hear, and then Louis spoke again.  
“Not the whole thing.”  
Again, he didn’t hear Michael’s reply, but he saw Louis frown and then nod before Michael turned and walked back to Harry.  
“I’m going to have you look at another set. It’s from the back rooms of Lucky’s.” Michael sat back down and opened a new file, “I need you to tell me as soon as you see something you recognize, alright?”  
Harry nodded. The picture filled the screen and Harry looked at it. The image showed a short hallway that veered to the left. The second picture was of what was down the hallway. Harry frowned.  
“That looks familiar,” he told Michael.  
“What does? The flooring? The wallpaper? The doors?”  
“I think all of it, but definitely the floor.”  
Michael nodded slowly.  
“Alright, keep going. Tell me if you recognize anything else.”  
“Okay.”  
Harry turned his attention back to the pictures. The third picture was nearly the same as the second, but the fourth was different. He almost didn’t notice it—one of the doors open just slightly, revealing red carpeting on the floor.  
“There,” Harry pointed to the red.  
“Red carpeting?”  
Harry nodded and clicked to the next picture. It had a better view of the room, although it was still mostly obstructed, so Harry could only make out part of the four-poster bed that he had come to hate. Harry gasped. His stomach dropped, and he looked away.   
“I recognize that room.”  
Michael’s gaze snapped to Harry, who was noticeably more uncomfortable than before.  
“That’s all we needed, Harry. We’re not going to keep going.”  
Harry nodded. He pulled his knees up to his chest. Louis had been right. He didn’t want to know what was on that footage. He didn’t want to think about what happened. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he was so close to so many people for so long without anyone noticing. He didn’t want to think about how he had spent weeks there, just a wall away from people who could save him.   
He jumped when Michael put a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
“I’m going to go get Louis, alright? Stay here.”  
When Louis walked over, he looked at the picture on the monitor, then kneeled beside Harry. He placed his hand on Harry’s knee.  
“Are you alright?” He turned to Michael, “That wasn’t the first thing he recognized. That’s not possible.”  
“He recognized the wood floors, but come on you can find that almost anywhere. I stopped him when he recognized something that was actually concrete.”  
Louis glared at Michael and turned to Harry. Harry sighed.  
“I’m sorry for getting mad at you. You were right,” Harry admitted.  
“I’m not here to say I told you so, love.”  
“You did, though. You told me I didn’t want to know, and I didn’t listen to you,” Harry said quietly.  
“I know. You’re all done with the hard stuff, alright? No more pictures.”  
Harry nodded.  
“The second conference room is empty if you want to go in there,” Michael said.  
“I’m going to bring Harry in there. If you need anything I’ll be with him.”   
Louis stood up and walked with Harry into the conference room. Harry was lead to the sofa and told to sit. He sat sideways on the cushions and leaned against the back of the sofa, his knees tucked into his chest. Louis sat beside him, one arm on the back of the sofa.  
“Do you want to tell me what that room was?” Louis asked. “Have you been there before?”  
Harry nodded.  
“It’s…when he wanted…me…they put me in there,” Harry mumbled.  
“Who, love?”  
“I—I don’t know,” Harry replied, his voice cracking, “I think—I think he was…the boss.”  
Louis nodded, understanding.  
“How?” Harry asked.  
“How what, love?”  
“How do they keep it a secret?”  
“I don’t know, love. It won’t be a secret much longer. We’re going to stop it, and we’re going to make sure it never happens again, alright?”  
“Promise?”  
“I promise.”  
Harry nodded.  
“Do you want to be alone?” Louis asked after a moment of silence.  
Harry shook his head.  
“Do you want me to stay?”  
Harry nodded.  
“Do you want a hug?”  
Harry nodded again, and Louis pulled Harry into his lap, one arm snaking around the younger boy’s waist, the other on his shoulder.  
“I’ve got you. He can’t hurt you ever again. I won’t let it happen. I’ve got you.”  
Louis words soothed Harry’s unease, and accompanied him into a deep sleep. One without dreams. He slept through Louis snapping at Michael, and he slept through Calum telling Louis about the plans for ending Lucky’s ring. He even slept through Louis’ phone call with Ashton, and Louis’ incessant coddling and attempts to ask about every aspect of Ashton’s home life.   
Louis didn’t let him sleep through lunch, however, waking the boy from his slumber.  
“You need to eat, love,” he said quietly, easing the boy off his lap.  
Harry made no effort to stay upright, and let himself fall face first onto the sofa cushions.  
“Not hungry.”  
“I know, but let’s get you something to eat anyways, alright? You can go back to sleep as soon as you’re done eating.”   
Louis tried to help Harry into a sitting position, despite Harry’s grumbling. Harry clung to Louis as he stood, still not fully awake. The older boy stumbled slightly from Harry’s weight around his neck. Louis arms found Harry’s and pulled his fingers apart.  
“Come on, love. What do you want to eat? Take away?” He asked, prying himself free.  
Harry made a discontent grumbling sound at the loss of contact, and Louis laughed.  
“French fries,” Harry mumbled.  
“Alright, I’ll get you some fries. I’ll be right back, love.”  
“Stay,” Harry pleaded weakly.  
Louis froze in the doorway.   
“Alright, love, alright, I’ll stay. Let me send someone to get the food.”  
Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned. He had slept well due to the lack of dreams—nightmares, rather—that usually kept him up. When he looked up, Louis was reentering the room.  
“Hey,” Harry said quietly.  
“Hey.”  
“I’m sorry I got mad.”  
Louis shook his head.  
“It’s alright, love, I know why you were upset.”  
Harry sighed and sat back down on the sofa. Louis joined him.   
“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on. I’ve spent too much time in the dark.”  
“I know.”  
Harry leaned into the sofa.  
“Then why didn’t you tell me what was on that footage?”  
“Look at yourself,” Louis sighed, “I didn’t want you to fall back into this, this…whatever this is. Sometimes it’s better to be in the dark. It’s better to be angry at me.”  
“Please don’t do that to me again. I’d rather be scared of what’s there than be scared of not knowing.”  
Louis nodded.

Harry ate on his own. Louis had to work, and left Harry to his own devices as he helped coordinate the plan to infiltrate Lucky’s. He had been sitting in the office for over an hour going over the details with the team.  
Harry, just in the other room, had spent the last hour staring out the window, and wondering if he was as safe as Louis promised. He knew Louis had asked for everyone to come in and view the footage as Harry had done, and he could hear a number of them speaking in the other room. He didn’t want to interact with any of them, so he stayed put, still staring out of the window.  
“Louis said you like to work out.”  
Harry looked up to see Calum standing in the doorway.  
“I thought maybe you’d want to go down to the gym with me and get some of that energy out. What do you think?”  
“Aren’t you busy?”  
“My work is pretty much done. This is more for forensics and the rest of the team, so I’m not really needed. Besides, you look like you could use some company.”  
“Yeah,” Harry admitted quietly.   
“Alright, then. Let’s go. We can do a bit of one-on-one. Maybe you can get me on the ground, yeah?”  
Harry chuckled, “I don’t think I could.”  
“Well why don’t you give it a go? C’mon.”  
Harry followed Calum to the gym in the basement. It was empty. Calum walked to the wall of lockers against the back wall of the gym and opened the third locker from the right. He pulled out two pairs of shorts and tossed one of the pairs to Harry.  
“I had a feeling you didn’t bring your own,” Calum explained.  
He walked to the locker room and Harry followed, the two changing quickly.  
“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” Harry commented.  
The two walked out of the locker room.   
“Yeah, I’ve got a few. This one here,” Calum pointed to his arm, “is my sister’s name – Mali-Koa – and this one here,” Calum pointed to his ankle, “is from a summer trip I took with my friends a couple years ago.”  
“Neat.”  
“What about yours? Any stories?”  
Harry nodded.  
“The one here on my shoulder, that’s one for my sister. And the butterfly is for transformation.”   
“That had to hurt. It’s huge,” Calum commented.   
“It wasn’t that bad, really.”  
“You must have a pretty high pain tolerance.”  
“I guess so. Tattoos are a good kind of pain.”  
Calum picked up a pair of fingerless gloves and handed them to Harry. Harry started putting them on, wiggling his fingers.  
“We’re not using the big mitts because I think they’re bulky and annoying,” Calum explained as he put on a pair of his own. “Try to land a good hit on me. I want to see how you fight.”  
“I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“You won’t, don’t worry.”  
Harry hesitated.  
“I’m serious, Harry, you won’t hurt me.”  
Calum held up his hands, his stance entirely defensive, and Harry stepped forward. He held up his hands to match Calum before sending a punch towards Calum’s gut. Calum dodged the blow and made the same move on Harry, who caught Calum’s wrist and used the opportunity to send a kick to Calum’s unprotected chest. Calum’s free hand slowed Harry’s kick and knocked him off balance, and the two tumbled to the ground. Calum landed on top of Harry, knocking the wind out of the both of them.   
Calum laughed breathily.   
“That was good. You alright?”  
Harry nodded.  
“Again,” he said, shoving Calum off his chest.  
He helped Calum to his feet and readjusted the strap on one of his gloves. Calum was stronger than Harry, and Harry enjoyed the challenge.  
Calum threw the first punch. Harry barely managed to dodge the attack, stumbling back a step before righting himself and sending a blow towards Calum’s side. He made contact and Calum hooked his ankle around Harry’s knee. Harry’s legs buckled and he fell forwards into Calum, who twisted to let Harry fall to the ground. Harry rolled to his back as Calum fell to his knees, trapping Harry beneath him. He bucked Calum off of his chest and rolled out from under the older boy. Before Calum could stand, Harry had moved to pin Calum face first into the ground.  
“You’re fast,” Calum said, when Harry stood up and helped Calum to his feet. “I’m impressed.”  
“I’m making up for not being able to throw hard punches,” Harry explained.  
“It’s good,” Calum said, “Really. Are you a fast runner?”  
Harry nodded.  
“Always have been.”  
“Let’s see if you can outrun me. We can go to the park. They’ve got a great loop –the one we took Captain on. Do you want to bring him? He’d love the exercise.”  
“Alright,” Harry agreed.

Louis was in the office, staring at the case file. He flipped through the hundreds of pages without looking at any of the writing inked onto them. As much as he wanted it to be true, he knew that the file didn’t hold all of the answers, and it didn’t tell him what needed to be done to bring Lucky’s down.   
He didn’t have an answer either. He had options, yes, but none of them seemed right. He could send in someone as bait—under cover, of course—but that ran the risk of never seeing them again, if the sting didn’t work. He could send in a team to shut the entire casino down, but that could end in a mass shooting where none of his men would survive, and that wasn’t a risk he wanted to take. He could wait for the ring leader –whatever his name was—to leave the casino and then he could have a team arrest him, but he didn’t know which man was in charge, and even if he did know, he still didn’t know what the man looked like. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.  
He had already made sure that he was doing the right thing with all of the victims—each of them had a safe place to stay—and he was focusing on making sure Harry, Ashton, and the Hemmings brothers were alright. Ashton, he knew, was struggling to readjust to being at home, but the young boy was doing just fine, according to the psychiatrist that Louis had insisted he see several times a week.   
The same could be said for the Hemmings brothers, however he was more concerned for that trio, as Luke was having difficulty adjusting to being in a new city with an entirely new life, and his older brothers had very little time to prepare for the position they had been put into as quasi-parents of their younger brother.   
As for Harry, Louis didn’t know what to do. Harry had been through far more than he was letting on. He was facing serious post-traumatic stress symptoms, and he certainly wouldn’t call himself alright –at least not honestly, since he had been saying those exact words to Louis’ face the entire time he had been with Louis.   
Louis was simply worried. Or, not so simply, since there were so many reasons Louis was worried that it made his head hurt. He was glad that his team was so willing to help. Michael and Calum were doing everything they could to make things easy on everyone, and Detective Watson had probably lost as much sleep as Louis had staring at the case file. It was a wonder that neither the Detective nor Louis could recite the entire file verbatim.   
He closed the case file and crossed his arms over the binder, laying his head down. He knew he would find an answer, but it wasn’t right then and there. He was too tired, and too worried, and he was sure that if he couldn’t come up with an answer that the Detective would do it for him.


	14. Ashton

Harry slowed to a stop, placing his hands on the top of his head and taking a deep breath. Captain’s leash dangled from Harry’s hand, and the dog panted heavily from the other end. Calum ran up to the two and stopped.  
“You’re wicked fast,” Calum said between breaths.  
“Not really.”  
“Mate, I can barely keep up with you,” Calum gasped, “How are you not dying?”  
Harry shrugged.  
“I ran a bit when we were at Chez-Lou.”  
“A bit?”  
“Every morning before everyone woke up.”  
“You went on a run by yourself?” Calum asked, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? That’s dangerous, Harry, you can’t leave before telling someone where you’re going.”  
“I was running on the treadmill,” Harry explained.  
“Why?” Calum asked, “Run every morning, I mean.”  
“I didn’t like how weak I felt.”  
“So you worked out?”  
“Yeah.”  
Calum let out a rush of air and chuckled.  
“Well it paid off, mate, you’re crazy fit. You should run with me in the morning. I usually do this route alone, but you should join me. Come in with Louis and we can go before I need to sit down to work?”  
Harry shrugged.  
“Alright,” he agreed.  
Captain barked and the two men turned to face the dog.  
“What is it Captain? Do you see something?” Calum asked jokingly.  
Captain growled, and Harry looked to were Captain’s attention was held. He didn’t see anything except for the other strangers wandering the park.   
“Crazy dog,” Calum sighed, “Let’s head back. I’m sure they’ve decided what to do about the casino, and we should be there if that’s the case.”  
Harry nodded.  
“Run or walk?” Calum asked.  
“Run. I’ll even give you a head start.”  
“I’ll meet you at the front door.”  
With that, Calum took off. Harry counted to ten, then began sprinting. Captain trotted alongside Harry as they raced through the park after Calum.

“Well, he ID-ed the boss, isn’t that what we wanted?”  
“I want him in prison, not just named.”  
“A name is a start. Our team is still in the city. We can extract him if necessary.”  
“Necessary?” Louis demanded, standing up from his desk. “Necessary? You have got to be kidding me. Of course it’s necessary—the question is how, not if.” Louis shoved the case file across his desk. “You think it’s not necessary to punish the man who did all of those horrible things to all of those people?”   
“That’s not what I meant.”  
“Well, don’t say things you don’t mean.” Louis snapped.  
Louis sat back down and put his head in his hands.  
“I’m sorry Michael, I’m just—please tell the Captain to send in a team as soon as possible, and—and please don’t tell Harry about this, alright? Don’t tell the others either. I’m just more worried about Harry with him being right here in the office.”  
“It’s okay.”  
“No, it’s not. It’s scary, and dangerous, and people are dying, Mikey, and if we don’t do something…” Louis faded out.   
“Then we could lose people we care about?”  
“Yeah,” Louis sighed.  
“Are you talking about Dalton or Harry?”  
Louis looked up at Michael and frowned.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Are you worried about losing Harry, or are you trying to get revenge for your brother?” Michael asked.  
“I,” Louis paused, “I care about Liam, and Perrie, and Ashton, and all of the others, too.”  
“I never said you didn’t, Lou.”  
“I know.”  
“It’s okay to worry about Harry, to care about him.”  
“He’s going to go off, soon, and do his own thing. I can’t get attached to him. To any of them. I’m just doing my job.”  
Michael took a seat in the chair opposite Louis.  
“But you did. You do every single time. It’s not just your job, but it’s not a bad thing, either.”  
“I can’t do it, though,” Louis said, “It—it sucks.”  
“It’s different this time?” It wasn’t a question.  
Louis nodded.  
“It can’t be.” Michael said slowly, “You need to remember what you’re trying to achieve here, Louis.”   
Louis scowled.  
“Trust me, Michael, I have not forgotten what I’m trying to achieve. I don’t think I’ve forgotten for one second in the last few years what I am trying to achieve.” Louis’ scowl faded, “It’s just different now.”  
“It can’t be,” Michael repeated.  
“I know.”  
Louis leaned back in his chair.  
“He’s only eighteen.”  
Louis sprung forward in his seat, his hands catching the edge of his desk.  
“Don’t even go there. I’m not going there. You’re not going there.”  
Michael put his hands up in mock-defense.  
“You’re the one who said it was different.”  
Louis looked astounded.  
“You know what he’s been through. That’s not even—I would never—no. Absolutely not, Mikey. And—and not even that, but he’s, he’s my—I bought him. I found him half-dead at Jack’s handcuffed naked to a wall and you think I could—I couldn’t—wouldn’t ever even consider that.”   
Michael raised his eyebrows.  
“I’m just saying it seems like you care a lot more about him than even you realize.”  
“Of course I care about him.”  
“I’m saying you care more about him than the others. I know you care about him full stop.”  
“I—”  
“Lou.”  
“Yeah,” Louis sighed, “Yeah, I do.”  
“It’s okay to care about him.”  
“I can’t lose him, too.”  
“We’re not going to let that happen, Lou, I promise.”  
“Don’t make promises you can’t promise to keep.”  
“I don’t.”  
“You just did.”  
Michael sighed.  
“Nothing is going to happen to Harry because you never let him be alone. He’s always with you, or me, or Calum, or Tom. He hasn’t been alone since he got here. Nothing is going to happen to him on our watch.”  
Michael stood up.  
“Thank you,” Louis said, standing as well.  
The two shook hands.  
“I’m just doing my job. You, on the other hand, are too worried for your own good. Why don’t you go home, get some rest?” Michael started walking to the door. “I’ll sort out the mission with the team and make sure our ducks are in a row, and I’ll personally escort Harry home.” He paused, looking back at Louis, “Or maybe Calum will, I’m not sure, but either way he’ll be safe. You just go home and we’ll finish up for today. Spend the weekend with Harry and just take some time, alright? Sort out what you’re feeling. It’s clouding your judgment, and frankly it’s making you fairly unpleasant because you’re so invested.”  
Louis nodded.  
“You’re right.”  
“I know I am.” Michael grinned. “Go home. We’ll see you Monday.”

Harry stayed in the gym doing pull ups and press ups for a good hour after Calum had showered and dressed and gone back to the upstairs office. Calum made Harry promise to check in at his desk before wandering off anywhere else, which is exactly what Harry did. After showering himself, he took the elevator back up to Louis’ floor, and walked down to Calum’s office, waving at Michael as he walked by. He stepped into Calum’s office.  
“Hey,” he said quietly.  
Calum spun around in his chair.  
“Hey, how are you feeling?”  
“Exhausted,” Harry replied, “But in a good way.”  
“I’m glad.”  
“Where’s Lou?”  
“Michael said he went home. He was pretty on edge.”  
“Did either of them say why?”  
Calum shook his head.  
“Don’t worry about it. Here, have a seat,” Calum pulled a second chair from against the wall and brought it beside his own.   
Harry sat down and looked expectantly at Calum.  
“Louis gets really invested in his work and sometimes he just needs a break. Michael said he’d take you home whenever you were ready to go, so if you’d rather head back than stay here, that’s fine by me.”  
“I can stay for a little while.”  
Calum grinned.  
“Alright then,” he said, spinning his chair to face his computer, “I’ve got a few books that have been collecting dust, a case file that I’m not supposed to let you read, and some new spy gear I’m working on.”  
“Will Louis be mad if I read the file?”  
“Probably.”  
“Spy gear, then.”  
Calum opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a pen, a watch, and a beanie, setting them in front of Harry.  
“Spy gear?” Harry asked skeptically.   
He raised an eyebrow at Calum.  
“That pen saved Ashton—well, its twin did—and the watch and beanie are being worked on at the moment.”  
“That pen saved Ashton?”  
“How do you think we knew he was there to begin with? Jack didn’t tell us. He probably wouldn’t’ve for a few years, at least.”  
“Years?”  
“You planning on repeating everything I say?” Calum teased, “Yeah, years. Ashton was young, healthy, and obedient from what I’ve heard. That’s exactly what formulates longevity for Jack. He had you for a few months until that mishap, but if that hadn’t have happened, you probably would’ve been there for at least a year.”  
Harry paled.  
“Really? You think that the black eye was what made him get rid of me?”  
“That’s what he said when he called Louis. You like ‘em a bit bloodied up, don’t you? Just take him off my hands, would ya?”   
“I remember he said Louis was the scariest man he had ever worked with. Those weren’t the exact words, but I got the gist of what he was getting on about.”  
Calum snorted.  
“Louis? The scariest man he’s ever come across? Hardly. But it’s good that he thinks as much. Louis couldn’t hurt someone if he tried. He cares too much. But yes, it was that shiner you had going for you.” Calum picked up the beanie, “We’re trying to get a hold of Jack’s new purchases before he can do any damage. It’s taking a bit of time because we can’t go in there with technology that he might notice, or we’ll be screwed. So far we’ve gotten that pen to work. He never noticed, which tells us that we have a chance at getting the next one early, too, and when we do, Louis will wear that watch, and I’ll wear this beanie. The watch is kind of cliché, and every fictional spy on the planet has a watch with spy gear in it, but this beanie is pretty neat.”  
He handed the beanie to Harry to put on.  
“First, the camera is really clear, but virtually undetectable. Second, it’s got microphones on both sides, just over the ears, and a wireless transmitter, so we can pick up the signal and use it as a tracking device, and also so that we can see the footage real time. Pretty neat, right?”  
Harry nodded.  
“Very.”  
“I need to test the beanie to be sure that it works properly. Want to help me with that?”  
“Sure.”  
“Alright then, go get lost somewhere in the building, and I’ll see if I can tell what room you’re in. I know this place pretty well, so I should be able to. Take my phone so I can talk to you since the hat doesn’t go both ways.”  
Harry stood up and took Calum’s phone, which was being handed to him, and left the room, hat on his head.  
He turned the corner to go towards the elevator and bumped into Michael.  
“Oh, sorry—Harry?”  
“Yeah?”  
“You look surprisingly different without your hair.”  
“It’s getting quite long. I need to give it a trim at some point.”   
Michael shrugged.  
“It looks fine long, actually. Where are you headed?”  
“Not sure yet. I’m helping Calum test his new spy-hat, so I’m supposed to wander the building to make sure the resolution stays the same wherever I am.”  
“Oh, that’s right, he was telling me about this the other day. Mind if I tag along?”  
Harry shook his head.  
Michael looked directly at Harry’s forehead.  
“Turn of the mic, would you, Cal? Don’t need you being a nosey Parker.”  
Calum’s phone dinged, and Harry looked at the message.  
From Cal Desktop: Sure thing Mikey. Don’t get him into too much trouble.  
“He says he turned it off.”  
“Good, good,” Michael said absently, gazing at Harry curiously.  
“What?”  
“Nothing,” Michael replied, “There’s just something about you that I can’t quite place. Don’t mind it.” He shrugged and turned towards the elevator, “So, how have you been holding up?”  
“Alright,” Harry said, “And yourself?”  
“Just fine. Has Lou been giving you much trouble? He’s not being too overbearing, is he? Because if he is, just let me know.”  
“No, no, he’s been amazing.” Harry said quickly, hitting the elevator button, “I don’t know what I’d do without him. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. What exactly am I supposed to do with myself now? I’m not attending Uni, I don’t have a family, and I don’t have a job. I can’t just live with Louis forever.”  
“I’m sure he’d be happy to let you stay as long as you wanted.” Michael replied. “He’s quite fond of you.”  
“I’m quite fond of him as well, but I can’t let him do that. I need to figure out what I’m going to do with myself, now.”  
The elevator dinged, and the two stepped in.  
“What floor?”  
Harry shrugged indecisively.  
“Basement it is.”  
“What’s in the basement?”  
“Nothing, really.” Michael admitted. “Mostly storage, some empty offices. I’m just expecting the signal to get lost in the concrete, to be honest.”  
“Oh.”  
It fell silent for a moment.  
“So, you’re fond of Louis, are you?”  
“It’s hard not to be, don’t you think?”  
Michael smiled.  
“You’re right about that. He’s a charmer.”  
Harry paled.  
“Oh no, I didn’t mean like that,” Harry backtracked.  
“Sure you did.”  
The two stepped off the elevator.  
“No, no. He’s not—I don’t think of him like that. That would be wrong on so many levels.”  
“You don’t have to defend yourself, Harry,” Michael said, patting Harry’s shoulder, “You just seem very comfortable with him, is all.”  
Calum’s phone beeped, and Harry looked at the screen.  
“He says the signal’s down.”  
“Knew it,” Michael grinned, “His little inventions take forever to de-bug. Tell him we’re coming back up.”  
Harry nodded.  
“Could you take me back to Louis’ after?” He asked.  
“Of course.”

Louis was livid. He couldn’t believe that Michael would go behind his back and talk to Harry the way he had. It’s not that Michael had had admitted it, because he hadn’t. Louis had found out because Harry had been acting strangely for a couple days, and he couldn’t figure out what was causing him to be so quiet and secluded. Harry explained to Louis, after an hour of incessant pestering, that he and Michael had had a conversation. Louis immediately knew what had happened, so he locked himself into the bedroom and called Michael.  
“Can you explain to me why Harry has been hiding from me?”  
“What?”  
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what happened. You told Harry about our conversation—which was not only incredibly inappropriate, but you did it with complete disregard for how he might have felt after hearing that.” Louis said coldly, flopping onto the newly made bed.  
He tucked the pillow from Harry’s side of the bed behind his head.  
“I asked him how he was doing, and said that you cared about him, and he obviously cared about you. I didn’t think that was even remotely bad.” Michael explained. “Is it so wrong to have someone care about you?”  
Louis stood up from the bed and began pacing.  
“The way you put it must’ve sounded a lot more like feelings for him than caring for him, because he can’t look me in the eyes. He hasn’t been timid in a long time, Michael. It’s not helping for him to think that his safe space isn’t safe anymore.”  
Louis was wearing a hole into the floor now, while Harry sat in the den watching yet another movie. The muted sound of the movie could be heard through the walls, and it distracted Louis slightly.  
“Is it safe, though? If you care about him as much as he thinks, is he really safe with you? Is your apartment an emotionally safe environment for him to be in?”  
“Of course he’s safe here. All of the people that we’ve rescued are safe.”  
“Actually, I was about to have Calum call you. Ashton is being brought into the office. His family died in a house fire this morning.”  
“What?” Louis hissed.  
He was no longer pacing. He stood staring angrily at the wall.  
“We have a team of investigators scoping the scene right now.”  
“I’m coming in. I’ll be there in an hour.”  
“No, you’re going to stay put. We can handle it. You need to fix whatever’s going on with Harry.”  
“Fix the mess you made, you mean?”   
“Louis, we have it covered.”  
“Do you? Where is he going to stay? Who’s figuring out who the hell burned down that house? Who’s going to tell me why the house burned down in the first place? I was assured that the house was being carefully patrolled at all times. Clearly you don’t have it covered.”  
“Stop. He’s going to stay in a safe house. I’m going to tell you who burned down the house as soon as I know, and I’m going to deal with whoever is responsible for the house burning down in the first place. I have it covered.”  
“I want him to stay with me.”   
Louis was pacing again.  
“Do you really think that’s a good idea, with Harry and all?”  
“Yes, Michael, I do. Do you want me to come in to get him, or do you want to bring him to me?”  
“We’ll bring him to you.”  
“Alright then. I’ll see you later then.”  
“Louis?”  
“Yes?”  
“I’m not sure this is a good idea. Harry isn’t okay right now, and if Ashton is in the same boat, I’m not on board with this.”  
“It’s not your decision to make.”  
“You’re right, it’s not. But I’ll talk to Watson if I need to. It’s about the wellbeing of Harry and Ashton before anything else.”  
“Just bring him here.”

Ashton was absolutely traumatized. Louis had thought Harry had been miserable when he first discovered his family had passed, but Ashton was a whole different story. Michael reported that Ashton had been crying since the moment they picked him up from outside of his house. Now, sitting in the living room, wrapped in blankets, Ashton was crying into Louis’ chest. Michael stayed until Ashton fell asleep, then he left so that Louis could get everyone settled in for the night. Harry offered for Ashton to take his bed, and he would take the couch—Louis told the curly haired boy that he was welcome to take Louis’ bed instead of the couch—, which lead to Louis carefully picking up Ashton and carrying him to the spare bedroom. Ashton stirred as Louis tucked the blankets around the boy.  
“Shh, go back to sleep, you need it. I’ll just be in the other room if you need me.” Louis murmured.  
Ashton nodded and burrowed into the pillow.  
“Okay,” he whispered.  
Louis gave one last look at Ashton and closed the door behind him. Harry stood in the kitchen with a glass of water, leaning on the countertop.  
“Is he alright?” Harry asked quietly.   
“He’s not, but he will be. He just needs to let the grief run its course,” Louis replied, “What about you? Are you alright?”  
“’M fine,” Harry shrugged.  
“Are you?”  
“I’m getting there. I just have a lot on my mind.”  
“Do you want to talk about it, love?” Louis asked, getting himself a glass of water.  
He stood a few feet from Harry, mirroring him as he leaned on the other side of the countertop.   
“I guess,” Harry said, but didn’t elaborate.  
“Alright,” Louis said after a moment, “Where do you want to start?”  
“Michael said you were looking into the other flat for me to move into.”  
“I was looking at the safe house, yes. Since you’re eighteen I thought it was about time for you to be thinking about living alone, if that’s what you want.”  
“I don’t know what I want.”  
“You don’t need to. It’s simply there if you decide you’d prefer to live there, whenever you decide that.”  
“Do you want me to move there?”  
“Well I don’t expect you to live here forever,” Louis replied, “Don’t you want to live on your own and not feel like you’re being babysat?”  
“I’m being babysat?” Harry asked, “That’s what this is? That’s why you want me to move to the other flat?”  
Louis sighed.  
“No, that’s not what I said.”  
“That’s exactly what you said, Louis.”  
“I said that I thought you might feel like you were being babysat, not that you were.”  
Harry placed his glass in the sink.   
“You haven’t said I’m not.”

Harry had started sleeping on the sofa. He woke up every night from a nightmare, the same nightmare, and he didn’t want to keep waking up Louis each time it happened. He would’ve taken his own bed, but Ashton had been occupying the room since he lost his family to the same fate as Harry’s. Because of this, Harry took to the sofa to let Louis sleep, and Louis had taken to waking up anyways and coming to join Harry on the sofa, at which point the nightmares went away, and the two slept through the rest of the night. This continued for several weeks without either of them mentioning it to the other. It went unsaid that Harry cared about Louis getting enough sleep, and Louis cared about Harry’s nightmares, so the routine continued.   
Despite that being the case, Louis made no effort to respond to Harry snuggling into his side at night, which frustrated Harry, who just wanted some attention, especially since he cared so much for Louis. Louis wanted the attention, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask for it from Harry. About a month into this routine, on a particularly cool day in mid-March, Harry woke in the middle of the night on the sofa to Louis, trapped halfway beneath Harry, who had rolled on top of the older boy, tracing his butterfly tattoo. Harry hummed and rolled off of Louis.  
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, “Didn’t mean to squash you.”  
“It’s alright,” Louis sighed, “I don’t mind.”  
Harry hoisted himself up onto his elbow to see Louis better in the dark living room.  
“What is it?” Louis asked.  
Harry hesitated.  
“It’s just—” he paused.  
“You can tell me, Harry.”  
Harry nodded slowly.  
“Remember that night at the hotel? When you said you wouldn’t ever—I mean, wouldn’t ever want,” he paused again, “well, me. Especially not after what happened, what I’ve been through.”  
“And I still stand by that, love. I’d never do that to you. That was nearly three months ago, love. I haven’t done anything to make you think that I would, have I?”  
“No, you haven’t.”  
“Then what is it?”  
“That is it, Lou,” Harry said frustrated.  
Louis shifted.  
“I’m not following.”   
“I just,” he paused again, “every time I try to get close to you, you push me away, and I just want to be close to you. It’s so nice to have someone who isn’t trying to just take something from me, but you keep pushing me away like I’m made of glass and you’re afraid to break me.” Harry paused for a moment, trying to order his thoughts, “I know I’m broken, or fragile, or whatever, but I’m not actually made of glass. I can’t take you pushing me away. You’re all I have right now, Lou, I need you.” He paused again, waiting for Louis to reply. “Please say something. This is going to get really uncomfortable if you don’t, so please just say something.” Harry begged.  
“I thought since you started sleeping on the couch—”  
“I didn’t want to keep waking you up,” Harry interrupted, “You don’t get enough sleep as it is, so it didn’t help for me to keep waking you up with my nightmares.”  
Harry looked down at Louis’ chest sheepishly.  
“Shit, Harry, you weren’t keeping me up, love. Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“I just wanted you to get sleep.”  
“I sleep better when I know you’re with me, love, even if you wake me up—hey, look at me. I mean it.” Louis brushed Harry’s curls from his face. “Honestly I’ve missed you being in my room.”  
“Have you?”  
Louis hummed, nodding.  
“I’ve missed you sleeping in my arms,” he demonstrated by pulling Harry down onto his chest, “and I’ve missed waking up with your head right here on my chest, and I’ve missed hearing you talk in your sleep,” he admitted. “I’m not trying to treat you like glass, love, I’m just trying to give you space. You know what I’ve missed most?”  
Harry shook his head and ducked his head under Louis’ chin.  
“What?”  
There was a brief moment where Louis considered dropping the matter, but he decided it was better to just be straight with Harry.  
“My goodnight kisses.” He said gently.  
Harry turned pink, and hoped Louis couldn’t see.   
“You have?”  
It had become almost a routine for Harry to give Louis a chaste kiss when he woke up from his nightmare and went to sleep on the sofa, but that stopped once Harry started falling asleep on the sofa to begin with.  
“Very much.”  
“Oh.”   
Harry wasn’t sure what to say. He was surprised Louis had even noticed he had done that, but more importantly, he hadn’t noticed that Louis had actually very much wanted him to stay in the first place.  
“Why do you want me to have the flat, then?”  
“I was under the impression that you’re ‘eighteen and do not need to be babysat by anyone,’ so I made the assumption that you didn’t want to live with anyone either.”  
Louis was referring to a brief spat that the two of them had had over Harry not being given any space, which had led to Louis looking into moving Harry into the nearby safe house sooner rather than later.  
“Oh.”  
“Oh?” Louis repeated.  
“Do you think you have to babysit me?”  
“I think I have an obligation to worry about your wellbeing, but no, I don’t think I’m your babysitter.” Louis replied. “That would be odd, don’t you think? It’s not often that you kiss your babysitter.”  
Louis poked Harry, whose fading blush was now a raging crimson across his cheeks.   
“Lou,” Harry whined quietly, burying his face further into Louis’ chest.  
“I’m being serious, love. I’m walking on eggshells here—not because you’re fragile, but because I don’t really know what I’m doing. Every single time I make a decision regarding you, I’m thinking about what you want, and what I want, and what my job allows me to do, and I have no idea if I’m getting it right on any of those counts.” Louis murmured, “And I really do miss my goodnight kisses.”  
Harry groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. Louis laughed, jostling Harry slightly. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist.  
“That’s so embarrassing,” Harry whined.  
“It’s cute, love,” Louis said, “I like it.”  
“Hmph.”  
“If it makes you feel better, I’d much prefer it if you stayed in my flat, and not move out.”  
“Louis,” Harry dragged out the vowel weakly.  
Louis ran his hand up and down Harry’s covered back.  
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop.” Louis relented.  
“Thank you.”  
There was a short pause.  
“Do I get a goodnight kiss?”  
“Lou!” Harry exclaimed, poking his head out from under the blankets.   
He was nose to nose with Louis, who was grinning like a madman.  
“Well?”  
“No. I didn’t even think you were awake, but that’s not even the point. It’s not that I don’t—it’s embarrassing. That’s all.”  
“Alright, love.”   
Harry rolled off of Louis, leaving just his head on Louis’ chest. Louis’ hand brushed Harry’s curls out of his face, and he kissed the top of Harry’s head softly.   
“Go back to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”  
Harry nodded against Louis’ chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For having not updated in so long, you'd think it would be a decently long chapter, but it's not. As you can see, the plot is headed in a certain direction, but I'm working to make sure it doesn't move too quickly, so I'm pacing myself. Since it's summer I'm going to have a lot more time to work on this now, so be prepared for more frequent updates. I want to get back to my once-a-week chapters, but we might need to settle for once-every-two-weeks-at-best updates. Thank you guys for being so patient and loyal. Love you for it!
> 
> Oh yeah! You can keep up with me on Instagram (olivia.bishop), Twitter (Olivia_Bishop_), and Snapchat (oliviabishop17).


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